Into The Deep
by Belle A Lestrange
Summary: Disclaimer: Rated M for disturbing scenes. AU. France, 1852. 10 years after Harry meets a very ill Draco Malfoy in Paris, he suffers his worst nightmare as Draco disappears over the side of boat. Should he listen to his heart and rescue his lover? Or should he simply let his suffering end on the riverbed? Either way he may have to go into the deep to find the answer. For Melissa.
1. PAST Part 1

Rating: M

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter.

Disclaimer: France, 1852. Harry Potter is the apprentice to Head Healer Snape in Calais, and is taken on a weekend to Paris to attract potential clients. During that weekend he meets aristocrat Draco Malfoy, suffering from consumption. Ten years later Harry suffers his worst nightmare of a very ill Draco disappearing over the side of boat. Should he listen to his heart and go in and rescue his lover? Or should he simply let his suffering end at the bottom of the river? Either way he may have to go into the deep to find the answers. This tale faces the hardships of Stockholm Syndrome, severe depression, and a battered tormented love buried deep inside.

I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N: This story is dedicated to my dear friend Melissa. I have struggled with keeping on target for this one and I know she's sitting at her desk cackling away at me.**

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><p><span><strong>Into the Deep<strong>

**PAST**

**Part 1**

**Calais, France, 1852**

Calais, France in the year 1852 was the year where Harry Potter's life took such a dramatic turn of events and had quite literally changed his life forever. He had been training underneath a very prestigious Healer in the French wizarding community and spent a lot of his time studying in the basement of the apothecary, his clothes often smelling heavily of various forms of incense and potions ingredients. He didn't mind it because he truly did love what he was studying. He got to sit in on surgeries and analyse various patients under the effects of different treatments. He didn't mind being on trivial duties that sent him around the hospital; he liked the menial tasks as much as the elaborate ones and would write long letters to his father in London, informing him about the various things he was learning about. He earned barely enough to keep himself alive on but he truly did love the work that he couldn't turn his back away from it.

The night that changed his life was a balmy May evening and the Head Healer, whom had been training Harry and taken him under his wing, and had invited Harry along with a few other protégées to a formal gathering in an expensive hotel in Paris. They were to get the train from three blocks away from the hospital they worked at and needed to bring a smart set of dark, formal robes to the function. They were to be upholding the name of the hospital and hopefully gather some possible new patients or even new recruits. The hospital always needed more recruits especially in the spell-damage ward. They needed more people to study the various effects that spells had on different people and how to reserve them. When they were being told that Harry had merely nodded along, partly because it didn't really apply to him as he was more focused on the potions aspect of things.

That night they had all been allowed enough time to bathe themselves and have an early dinner so that they could be ready for the long walk to the hotel. The walk was to mentally prepare themselves for when they met the people congregating at the hotel; there were to be a lot of head aurors and professors, even some people who worked for the Paris Ministry of Magical Defence and various high-up pureblood families, even a few who had come from Germany and Italy. Harry had felt a little queasy at the thought of being around so many socialites and wealthy people, including prospective medical students and other people who were on a small break from neighbouring universities. It made him feel a little on edge but he had been psyching himself up all night to get ready for the long weekend. They had three nights of this and he was determined to do it.

As he stepped into the foyer of the hotel behind Head Healer Snape and the few other medical students who had agreed to come along to the trip, Harry couldn't help but express his wonder at how beautiful the glittering décor of the high walls and the chandeliers hanging overhead were. It had taken his breath away as soon as he'd seen them. He fixed his glasses on the end of his nose and followed his fellow companions over to a small place where he handed his travelling cloak to a tall, gloomy looking man in a dark suit.

Healer Snape led them through a series of wide, brightly lit hallways until he came to a huge set of double door that were opened for them once they'd presented their invitations. The large ballroom was a bright array of smooth woods and gold and peach glazed walls and gold trimming everywhere. It all looked so beautiful that Harry just wanted to stand and stare at it for the entire night, but he knew he couldn't. They were there to work, the beautiful of the place was merely an added bonus to soak up as he trailed to one end of the room a few paces behind his classmate –Ronald, was it? –and took a glass of fizzing champagne from the gleaming wooden bar and turned to face the room, using his analytical mind to draw out any people he could talk to and try and engage them in a conversation on the medical sciences associated to being a healer and how even a degree in potions alone could enable you to gain an apprenticeship with Healer Snape.

"Pardon my intrusion, since you appear to be very deep in thought, but it seems to me that you've bored yourself into a catatonic state, unless I am very much mistaken?" purred a voice that trailed over Harry like silken ribbons wrapping around his muscles. He turned around on the spot in a whir of golden infused light and came face-to-face with a tall aristocratic looking blonde with chiselled alabaster features, steely grey eyes and petal pink lips drawn up into an amused smirk. Harry peered a little higher –the man was at least a head taller than he was –and saw that his slicked back hair was a fine shock of white-blonde hair that glistened like pale gold in the lamplight. The man extended his hand, clutching a flute of champagne in his free hand, and smirked a little wider, "My name is Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy. May I enquire as to who you are?"

He seemed polite enough if even a little on the haughty side, but it was that smirk that enticed Harry to continue the conversation and slip his hand into the blonde man's hand and shook it firmly. "Harold Potter, but please just call me Harry. This is my first night in Paris and I'm not entirely sure where I should be or if there is anyone that I should be specifically talking to."

"Well I should avoid that short woman over there who looks a little bit like a bloat bullfrog," Draco stated in a cool manner indicating a rather rotund woman in a set of flamboyant pink dress robes, her brunette hair tightly curled on the top of her head, outlining the rather lumpy edge of her skull. Harry was momentarily captivated, wondering about the muscles that must strain to work as the woman rambled on at such a rapid pace that he couldn't help but wonder what kept her jawbone connected. "That's Dolores Umbridge, she tends to sneer down at a lot of people who don't meet up to her rather impossibly high standards."

Harry turned with an amused eyebrow raised up at the blonde and raised his flute to sip from it, "Are you telling me that you are not too high up in the eyes of society to look down on little people like me?"

Draco turned with surprised raised eyebrows for a moment before he schooled his features into his previous smirking mask, "Oh? And how are you a small person in the eyes of society, young Harold?"

"Harry," the brunette corrected, trying not to let any measure of annoyance ebb into his voice, "And I am just here as a Healers apprentice from Calais for the weekend. I'm not really on any level of society, but I am training to be a healer so that I can be as decent as Snape, if I can be."

"Oh, you're apprenticing underneath Snape?" Draco's voice held a note of interest and approval for which something warm swelled within Harry's chest. "Oh, he is certainly a great teacher you should learn a lot from here I dare say." He sipped from his flute.

"Have you been to one of his lectures in Calais before?" Harry asked as he drained the rest of his champagne and then set it back behind him on the bar.

Draco shook his head, "No, actually, he is my godfather. He did use to teach me potions before I was accepted to Beauxbatons School. So how long have you been studying underneath him?"

"Well initially I had meant to start two years ago but due to my mother's poor health I had to postpone until this year. I have only been with him a few months, since January, so not too long really. However, in my last review he did mention that I have progressed a great deal more past the others and he feels that I may be able to take on a few more duties once we return back to Calais." He turned to look Draco up and down and didn't know why he found himself surprised at the expensive cut of his dress robes and the expensive snake signet rink adorning his pale finger. "What is it that you do? Have you ever thought to study under your godfather and learn the trade of being a Healer?"

Draco snickered lightly and drained the last of his own flute and shook his head, his blonde hair not moving a fraction. "No, I find that I have been spending a lot of my current time being on the receiving end of the healers hands instead of getting to help anybody unfortunately."

Even though his tone indicated that he would appreciate a change of topic, he couldn't stop the question from falling from his lips and spilling out into the air. "What are you suffering from, if it's not too impertinent a question to ask?"

Draco hummed at the back of his throat before shaking his head, "No, of course not. As an apprentice healer you have every right to want to ask questions. That's a good thing, bear than in mind for future reference. With Snape you can never be afraid to ask questions that may need to be asked, alright? He likes getting questioned. He feels that the less you question things at such an early stage, you might as well castrate yourself as soon as possible and go and wear ladies underwear." He smiled to himself, "And as for your question; it's been said that I have a weak set of lungs. I'm not supposed to live past the age of thirty if I can even manage that."

It was such a young age and it struck Harry through his very core as he studied the blonde who looked like the picture of health. Okay, he did look a little on the skinny side, but perhaps he was merely lean. He looked like he could have muscles underneath those finely cut robes. He had some faint bags under his eyes that someone had tried to conceal with some finely tinted make-up and it had almost worked, but then Harry had studied bodies day-in and day-out for months on end. "Have you had a professional healer assigned to your case to take you in for assessments and making sure to document your progress with various potions?" he couldn't help but ask, feeling a little braver as he did so.

Draco looked down at the brunette apprentice with mild surprise and couldn't help himself feel a little excitable at what that question might mean. He wasn't holding out any hope, but he did enjoy talking to the young brunette. He tried to fit in without being insolent and he was certainly fairly passionate about what he could do with his apprenticeship. "Are you offering me to be your first private patient Mister Potter? Because if that's the case then I must say that I am intrigued as to how you would proceed with helping me fight my ailments, as I have been assured without a doubt that they cannot be healed."

Harry narrowed his eyes a little and found himself straightening up to his fall height which still onto put him eye level with Draco's pointed chin, "Mister Malfoy the world of healing potions in changing as we speak. Every day more people are finding new uses for various ingredients and making more and more cures, and you are standing there in all your finery as though you have given up and are just waiting for the right time to die!" he hissed out the last part out, not wanting to draw attention to the both of them.

Draco felt a flush creep up his neck as he grasped his empty flute in his hand, his face devoid of colour, even more so now. "How on earth can you tell that I have powder on my face?" he hissed, "I bought it for the sole purpose that I was told it was undetectable!"

"Perhaps to most others, but I woke with people and bodies in all walks of life every day so don't think I won't notice an unnatural complexion when I see one staring me right in the face."

Draco felt his lips curled into a sneer, "I think your teacher is looking for you, Potter," he sneered as he turned away and took another flute of champagne from the bar and then disappeared into the numerous black robes of the mass crowd that were milling around inside the function room. Harry was suddenly no longer in the mood to talk to anyone and was all too happy when Snape found him, followed by Ronald and Dennis and then escorted them back out to the main lobby where they gathered their travelling cloaks and out into the balmy night and back towards their own hotel a few blocks. No one spoke on the way back, not even Dennis who was the chirpiest one out of all of them.

As soon as he got into his shared hotel room with Ronald, Harry flopped down onto his bed as soon as he had hung up his dress robes and tie, making sure that they wouldn't crease before the following night and then collapsed in an exhausted heap on his bed. He would have fallen instantly asleep if it wasn't for Ronald flopping onto his own bed, still fully clothed, and his mouth hanging open to allow loud snores to fill the air.

Slipping into his own nightshirt he went over to close the curtains and then returned to his own single bed on the other side of the room and crawled in between the cool, clean sheets and settled down to sleep.

The following evening when they were all freshly shaven and dipped with a little scented oil behind the ears of a small aftershave derived from the 'love potion' to make one desirable to engage in a conversation. Apparently the evening prior Ronald and Dennis had not made great progressing in approaching people to discuss their new line of work and so Harry entered the ballroom that evening feeling a little on the energetic side, seeing as he was the only one who had been able to converse with someone let alone someone of such important as the heir to the Malfoy fortune. Harry had personally been praised by Snape beforehand.

As he accepted a flute of champagne and watched his companions drift away in the rest of the milling crowd, he surveyed the room to see if there was anyone he could talk with tonight. He felt a little discredited as he looked around the room and didn't see the shock of white-blonde hair that would have indicated the presence of Draco Malfoy. He felt a weight settle on his shoulders at the thought of having aggravated the blonde beyond belief so he wouldn't return the following evening. Perhaps he was only interested enough in dipping his toe into that specific social spectrum didn't like what he saw and simply opted to go to the opera or something else. Many suggestions were plausible. He was grateful that he was snapped out of his imaginings by Snape coming up to him and placing a hand on his elbow, "Harold I have someone here who wishes to meet the young man who spoke with his son the previous evening. Apparently you said a few things about our business that attracted his attention and he wishes to meet the person who managed to captivate his sons' interest on the subject."

Harry felt a heat creep up his neck and he felt his stomach knot in some dread. "Of course Professor," he managed to choke out before draining his flute in one gulp to regain a little bit of confidence. He was escorted across the room to where a group of tall older men were standing together in crisp black dress robes and talking over their flutes. One of them, no doubt Draco's father by the look of the white-blonde hair and pinched expression, grasped a cane in his left hand with a silvery snake wrapped around the head of the walking appliance. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the cane was more for show than for actually aid the older man.

"Lord Malfoy, this is my protégée who I was telling you about last night. He is the only one out of my new apprentices who has managed to surpass the average standards of our work at the hospital. I am going to hire him as a part time assistant after this weekend as he is absolutely invaluable to the progress of our research at the hospital."

Lucius' cool admiration cut through and chilled Harry right to the bone. He didn't even blink as he sipped from his champagne flute and then inclined his head, "Well it would seem, Mister Potter that you have managed to keep my son chattering incessantly about your pig-headed nature. Alas, when he did inform me of the facts you laid down before him I must admit I was most impressed with the knowledge of someone so young."

Harry felt the heat on the back of his neck increase a little as he, too, inclined his head. "Your son very much flatters me, Lord Malfoy. I was merely explaining to him that he need not give up on modern medicine for we are now leaps and bounds ahead of where we were not three years ago and that if he had a regular physician there would be no need for ill-health for the majority of the year. He didn't seem particularly interested last night to continue our conversation though, so I am surprised he so much as mentioned me to you, your grace."

Lucius smirked a little wider and then moved his cool approval over to Snape. "You have done well in training this young boy, Severus. I daresay he will be your greatest accomplishment. He is certainly a credit to you." Severus inclined his head in much the same cool manner as Harry was accustomed to. "In fact, if you do not mind losing the company of young Mister Potter for a few moments, I would like to talk to him in private."

There were no objections and so within a few moments Harry found himself walking alongside Lord Malfoy, feeling as inferior as humanly possible, as they walked out on the outskirts of the garden of the hotel. They walked in silence for a little while and with no champagne flute in his hand to distract him and fumble with, Harry felt a little more vulnerable than he had been for the entire trip so far. "Now Mister Potter, I know that you did in fact say something that upset Draco last night and I would like to enquire as to what it was."

Harry turned to look up at the expressionless man and felt weak at the prospect that he certainly had indeed insulted Draco into not attending that evening. "Forgive me, Lord Malfoy, I had merely stated that I could see that he was wearing make-up to conceal how run down he was looking at the waxy quality of his skin and naturally he seems to have not appreciated such comments on my part."

Lucius chuckled dryly to himself, "On the contrary I found myself intrigued to meet you when he returned home in such a state. It seems he hung onto your every word and was quite interested." He turned to look down at Harry, "I pray to Merlin that you were not giving my son false hope, Mister Potter. If there is a way to cure my son or at the very least ease his discomfort, then I would be grateful in more ways than one. He is my only child after all."

"I understand that Lord Malfoy but I do not believe I was deceiving your son. Potions and medicine have developed at such an alarming rate recently that I do believe, given some more time, there will be something to at the very least ease your sons discomfort and to perhaps give him a better quality of life." He paused and licked his lips, "I assume that is why he isn't here tonight. Did he take ill since last night?"

"Indeed so, you have a sharp mind. Not that I doubted Severus of course. And in answer to your question, Mister Potter, yes; it would seem you made my son quite excitable and he had to stay in bed for the duration of the day."

"I didn't mean to cause you and your family such unwarranted distress," Harry gushed, feeling a cold dread sink into his stomach like a heavy weight.

Lucius shook his head, "Do no worry, it almost takes something as simple as the weather changing to get him worked up. Although I wish he wasn't so exhausted afterwards. It's almost as though he must live a passionless life in order to live longer."

Harry felt guilt settle inside his mind as they walked along the cool terrace surrounded by the balmy evening air. A light breeze ruffled his hair and he inwardly winced, especially seeing as how Lucius' hair remained unaffected. Not a hair was out of place. "If you don't mind my asking sir, but is your son afraid of his condition?"

"Why would you ask that?" Lucius enquired with a cool expression and an eyebrow hitched into his hairline.

"It's natural to be afraid of the things that we don't understand or fully know about," he stated matter-of-factly, "If your son is afraid then it might be partially psychological and he hinders his own progression with medicine by his mind rejecting any help without intention."

Lucius paused for a moment and seemed to be contemplating the possibility. "Well if that is indeed the case then what would you suggest countering it?"

Harry hummed softly before responding, "It could very well help him if he was instructed on how the body has been designed to work and some possibilities of his condition as well as how the medicine would indeed cure him or at the very least aim to make his life more bearable."

"And how would one go about doing such a thing as to ease this mild infliction on his mind?"

"Well one could try reading him medical journals about certain parts of the body; recent medical discoveries in the wizarding community that have cured other parts of the body and new theories of medicines about to be conducted and things like that. Having knowledge is one of the keys for people to believe that they are capable of fighting whatever ails them."

Lucius eyed him with scepticism before turning to face him, "And would you be willing to complete such a task for my son, Mister Potter? I daresay some company his own age would not go amiss either, if I dare say so myself."

Harry was shocked to say the least. What Lord Malfoy was suggesting was not something that had even entered into his mind. "W-wouldn't you prefer to have someone that you know informing your master Malfoy of such things? My presence would surely only disturb him further, and I wouldn't want to be a burden on you, Lord Malfoy."

"I daren't say that if it does not interfere with your work, then Severus would be more than happy. After all, you will be spreading the things he had taught you, and I don't doubt that there will be some other people around the manor who wouldn't mind enquiring some things of you. And you would be able to recommend them all to Severus for help."

"That is awfully gracious of you, Lord Malfoy. I just don't understand where this generosity is coming from. You're known to most of France as being somewhat of a … a …" he trailed off not wanting to sound as though he were insulting the Lord.

"Tyrant?" Lucius supplied with his usual dry chuckle, "Of course I am aware of the rumours and what they print in the papers. However, where my son is concerned I will do as much as I can to make sure he is comfortable. Even if it is for a short amount of time." He eyed Harry's obvious discomfort before sighing, "If you wish for me to convince Severus I don't mind taking on that task, but I would like you to agree first, otherwise there is no point for me to do so."

Harry nodded his head, "Yes sir, I think I would like that very much."

To Harry's surprise it didn't take long for Severus to be convinced that it would be a wonderful opportunity for the young apprentice to broaden his horizons and gain some extra knowledge of the apothecaries and tradesmen in Paris. Considering the progress Harry had made Severus had insisted that he take another day off in his week, so that he had a three-day weekend every week, for him to travel back and forth between Calais and Paris by coach as long as he studied frivolously for his exams in late June. Harry promised that he would and Lucius gave his condition that Harry were to come to the manor the following day to begin his readings to his son, and attend the final day of the function the following evening together.

And so that was how Harry found himself outside Malfoy Manor the following morning.

~0~

"You must be young Mister Potter?" a petite maid curtsied to him and he felt a flush creep up his neck as his travelling cloak was taken from him by another maid. "Do come in. Lord Malfoy and young Master Malfoy are in the drawing room. If you would follow me, I'll take you to them."

Harry nodded his head with a small smile as he stepped onto the polished marble tiles and trailed after the maid to the drawing room. The décor was just as beautiful as the hotel where the functions were being held. The tapestries were intricately woven and vast as they hung on the walls and the paintings of the families predecessors were breath-taking, if a little dark in the wide, somewhat gloomy room. If it hadn't been for the sunlight then the place would look rather bleak and miserable. The young maid cleared her throat and the two blonde heads looked up towards the door. Harry felt his cheeks heat up a little. Lucius inclined his head and beckoned him forward, whereas Draco puffed his chest out a little bit. Harry advanced into the room and stood on ceremony beside Lucius and Draco's chair, not entirely sure of what to do with himself. Lucius stood up and then waved Harry down into his chair. "Do sit, Mister Potter, I have business to attend to elsewhere. I daresay you brought some material to read to my son, have you not?"

Harry nodded indicating the slid leather satchel in his hand, "Of course sir, as per your instruction."

Lucius nodded his head and then left the room barking for the young maids to get back to their work. Harry flinched a little, having not heard Lucius raise his voice before, even if he had only met the man the night prior. Harry seated himself down his slim satchel pressed against his leg.

The silence reigned between them as the ticking of the clock on the mantel grew ever louder between them. It was Draco who finally broke the silence, his voice tight and cold unlike it had been the other night. "I see my father managed to cajole you into keeping me preoccupied while he goes about his political drivel."

Harry nodded weakly, "Yes he had but I also find that it would be beneficial to me if you agree to let me read to you."

"I am not so rich that I did not bother to read, Potter," the blonde man snapped irritably, his cheeks beginning to look a little clammy.

"Of course not, Master Malfoy, but sometimes having someone read it to you will fix it a little firmer into your mind so that you are more likely to remember it at a later date."

Draco huffed in annoyance and swiped a handkerchief from his top pocket and swiped it across his brow. "Fine," he huffed waving his hand at Harry, "Read if you must but I can't promise to pay attention to you."

Harry decided that was about as good as he was going to get for that morning, so he slipped out one of his first ever medical journals to study, flipped it open on his lap, and started to read.

By the time the young maid came back up for to bring them their mid-morning tea, Draco had to admit he found Harry's rendition of the medical journals a lot more interesting that he would have done if one of his old professors had been teaching him. He sat there in his straight-backed chair and steeped fingers and watched the young brunette man as he really got into the writing, and smiled to himself before he informed Draco of how a few of the discoveries had gotten muddled before printing, and some of the people got confused as to the positioning of some of the internal organs. As they sipped at their tea, Draco couldn't help but notice how truly entrancing the younger man was and he couldn't deny how intriguing Harry was becoming by the minute. He loathed admitting that his father had made an excellent choice in bringing Harry over to read to him.

At the end of a couple of hours Harry closed his second journal and placed it to one side, "If I've bored you into a coma you need only say and we can discuss something else, if you wish."

Draco blinked through his staring state and righted himself in his chair, "Not at all. I actually found it quite interesting. You have a talent for speaking out, Mister Potter. But I do tire from listening to all this medical jargon. Would you like to discuss something else? I'd be most obliged if you do."

Harry nodded his head, inwardly glad that Draco didn't want to get rid of him just then. For the rest of the morning they talked about their families and friends, political standings and how they liked their universities where they had studied. Draco had stated that he was inclined to take over the family business from his father. He said he didn't mind it but sometimes he needed something to distract him and take his mind off of things. Harry had even spent a little bit of time telling Draco about the English countryside and the blonde man had said that he wished he could take some time to go and see it. Harry had wanted to comment that the blonde seemed to have nothing but time on his hands but decided to hold his tongue, not wanting to annoy the blonde any further. In the end he promised to simply meet the blonde later that evening at the function in the hotel.

"I thought you were to be riding with Father and me to the hotel tonight?" Draco asked, frowning a little and looking a little peaky. So much so that Harry was tempted to reach over and check his temperature.

Harry rubbed at the back of his neck and frowned, "Well yes that was the plan, but I cannot go to dinner looking like this. I won't look nearly formal enough in front of all of your fathers associates."

Draco waved his hand, "Nonsense. If you'll allow me I'm sure there is something of mine that would fit you. I haven't cleared out any of my smaller robes, so I am sure one of them would fit you perfectly."

Harry felt flustered at the thought of wearing Draco's clothes, especially when he would never be able to afford something so finely cut even if he did manage to become a high ranking healer such as Snape. Draco beckoned him over as he moved towards the door, "Come on let's not waste time. If one of them fits you almost perfectly I'll have one of the maids shorten it and it'll be ready for tonight. You can keep it."

Harry shook his head and held up his hand, "Oh no, I couldn't possibly do that, Master Malfoy."

"Please let's not be formal, Harry. Call me Draco, unless I am royally frustrating you in which case call me whatever you like."

Harry couldn't hide the flush that crept up onto his cheeks as he followed Draco along a maze of marble corridors and towards his bedchamber. His bedchamber was dimly lit by two tall narrow windows on the wall opposite the four poster bed and the large ornate desk pressed up in the wall space between them. Walking over to the large wardrobe with wide oak doors, Harry watched as the tall blonde shifted through its contents before pulling out a few bags that contained beautiful dress robes that Harry found his mouth hanging open at the mere sight of them. A few maids wandered into the room and all too soon Harry found himself on a small stood having the smallest of the three dress robes, pinned and altered around his shorter frame and numerous jittering instructions to tell him that he needed to stop moving about. Harry watched as amused smirks played on Draco's lips as he sat in a chair and watched it all with delight playing in his grey eyes.

He really did have beautiful eyes, not that Harry was looking too much over at the blonde, trying to suppress his own embarrassed smile.

To say that nobody recognised Harry in the fine altered robes was an understatement. Lucius was able to hide most of his surprise except for in his eyes, so much like Draco's own, only a fraction colder, whereas Draco's were like warm mercury. Harry flushed a little as his slick backed hair actually stayed in its styled position, with the new scented wax that Draco had offered him earlier. He felt far too inferior compared to the rest of them and felt as though he was playing dress-up but he didn't voice any of these thoughts as he was invited to dine with the Malfoy's –the first time that Harry had met Narcissa Malfoy or even heard her name mentioned –before they set off in the large coach to the hotel where they stripped their travelling cloaks and walked into the function room where much the same people were there, including a flock of new people who may have heard all the commotion about the enthralling topics to be discussed, and couldn't pass up the chance to wag their own tongues and offering their personal opinions.

Lucius and Narcissa went off where they instantly caught sight of Severus and began talking to him off to one side. Draco and Harry were left to their own devices, so as soon as Harry grasped two champagne flutes for the both of them, silently grateful for the rich food that was settling his stomach, and handed one to the blonde man beside him. Draco turned to him with a lazy smirk, "Come on, how about we go and have a stroll in the gardens and enjoy the summer night." It wasn't a request but more of a statement as to what was going to happen whether Harry wanted it to or not. He didn't protest though. He rather liked the hotel gardens. As they strolled along the stone pathways Draco smiled genuinely for the first time, "I have to admit Harry that you are good company. I haven't heard such riveting passion from anyone in such a long time. I understand it that this is your last night in Paris, correct?"

Harry nodded his head, "Yes I must return to Calais and complete my studying for my exams in June."

Draco nodded in understanding, "I do not wish to lose correspondence with you, Harry. You seem to be one of very few people who don't bore me … How did you put it? Into a coma?" Harry nodded with an abashed smiled and Draco returned it before sipping from his flute, "Would you write to me when you are not too busy studying for your exams?"

Harry blinked in surprise, "You really think that I have anything worthwhile that would keep you interested?"

Draco nodded, "You managed to hold my interest for two whole hours straight whilst teaching me about the internal organs of the human body, so yes even if it's a tedious day for you I am sure it would interest me greatly."

Harry nodded and drained the rest of his flute and let out a breathy sigh into the tepid night air. "Very well then, Draco, I shall write to you but you must promise to tell me if I do bore you so that I can find something in my day that may interest you. Does that sound like a fair compromise?"

Draco shook his head with a smile, "Oh, Mister Potter, I should tell you that I never lower myself to making compromises," he stated and then bit his tongue when he saw the downward turn of Harry's smile, "But," he continued in a light tone, "I am more than willing to say you've convinced me to thinking that there may be something to it. So yes, it does sound fair to me."

"Not to lowly for you?" Harry quipped a little tightly.

Draco shook his head, "Not at all, Harry. You are passionate and intriguing, two very important things that I need in my life," he looked down at the brunette, "I think you would be good for me."

Those words continued to ring in Harry's ears later that night as he settled down to sleep for the final night in their own hotel. Starting the following morning he would take on a workload of intensive training and studying in order to prepare for his upcoming exams. He just didn't realise how big a part Draco and his letters would play in keeping his sanity as well as getting him out of the stifling hospital a few times a month.

~0~

Over the coming months Harry noticed that he was getting premature silvery threads throughout his black hair and it worried him even further when he realised just how unbelievably stressed that he was becoming, and it was only the end of April. He still had two full months of studying before his exams. He needn't be so worried and yet he couldn't convince his mind to shut down and relax each night before he went to sleep. The only things that had been breaking his studying up throughout the last two weeks were the letters he had received from Draco throughout their mutual correspondence. It was harder to bicker through letters so Harry felt that they had a stroke of luck in this means of communication. Anything else and he would have feared that his friendship with Draco would have hit a wrong note and been terminated before it had even properly begun. Alas, that was not the case.

It was on one of those long days where he was observing some new spells that made it easier and safer to dissect body parts without any excess blood spurting out all over their robes that Harry received another letter from Draco. He smiled as he recognised the intricate scrawl on the front of the envelope. He never ceased to marvel at how beautiful his name looked written in Draco's hand. He flipped it over as he went over to sit in the hard backed chair at his small wooden desk and turned the oil lamp up a little bit more so that he could read in the gloom of the twilight. He felt his smile fall a little as he read Draco's latest reply.

_Dear Harry,_

_I was so glad I got your last letter especially as it caught me just as my health took a little turn for the worst. I'm not entirely sure it is wise for you to come and see me next week. It's merely a cold and father had requested some pepper-up potions from Severus but I would rather not open you to the risk of getting ill. I warn you it's not entirely pleasant, I'm surprised that I'm able to sit up and write to you right now so you should consider yourself very lucky._

_On a brighter note, this also means that Mother won't be escorting me around France looking for some broad to marry me off to someone, although I do hate to disappoint her in not being able to carry on the family name. I shouldn't be feeling relieved and yet I still do. Does that make me a bad person? I should hope not, because I really have been enjoying talking to you and getting to know one another. You're a good person so I'm going to try and be a good person for you._

_I hope that this letter finds you well and that you're not stressing too much over your exams. You're going to succeed I am sure about it._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Draco._

Harry let the letter droop in his hand and he ran his fingers over his face. Draco had taken ill again? That was three times in the last two months, no one should be getting that ill that often without someone finding the proper cause for it. He pursed his lips tightly. He needed to do a little extra research, he was sure he had missed something in Draco's personal file that Severus had allowed his to study for his presentation. He wanted to be able to help Draco, even if he had to create a potion from scratch for that very purpose. Judging from the symptoms that Draco had written about in previous problems he was sure that there was a stronger potion and an additional salve that could be used to bring Draco's fever down and to help clear the air that got into his lungs. He just needed another month to brew it, which would eat a significant amount of hi studying time. However, he mentally concluded as he stared off out of his window, if he were to use Draco's illnesses as a means of passing his exams, the studying would simply go hand in hand with the potion. First off he would take one of the potions to Draco and access his responses and then alter the potion accordingly if it did not work.

With his mind made up he stood up and performed his nightly rituals before tugged his nightshirt on over his head and climbing into the rickety bed and pulling the sheets up to his chest. Draco's letter rested on his bedside table where he kept the rest of them, stacked neatly together and tied together with a silvery hair ribbon that he'd found in the old dress robes Draco had insisted he keep as a gift. The next morning he would go to Severus and ask for the rest of the week off and explain everything to him. No doubt he would already know that Draco had taken ill, but regardless he was going to explain everything including what he intended to do as the personal assignment for the exams. He just hoped that any potions he created wouldn't discredit his research should it fail.

Suffice to say that Severus was not happy about this abruptly change of plans on such short notice was a gross understatement. He did already know of Draco's illness but his anger was somewhat placated when Harry explained to him the personal assignment and that if he started it now than it should be ready to publish, success of fail, in the medical journals straight after the exams were marked and returned. The greasy-haired man leaned back in his chair in his office and hummed low in his throat. "I can't say that I am happy about this change in plan, Harry," Severus stated in a bland voice, "However, I suppose it would add credit to your final marks and it would give Ronald and Dennis the chance to step up and actually do some work here instead of hoping you will do it all. Yes, I did notice," he added with a frown down at his protégée, before sighing and inclining his head, "As long as Lucius is alright with you staying there for a few days longer you may have the rest of the week off but be back to work first thing on Monday morning, do you understand?"

Harry nodded so hard that Severus feared that his head would fall off his shoulders. "Would it be possible to send him a telegram straight away? I know there may not be a response until tomorrow evening, but as it's Tuesday morning I can easily get started on preparing any potions I can take for the rest of the week."

"Of course I shall. Now go off and get as much work as you can do before tomorrow evening, alright?"

Harry nodded, "You have no idea how much I appreciate this Professor, this is such an amazing chance for me!"

"I know Mister Potter but don't forget that it may be difficult for you. You cannot have such a friendship with your patients as it could easily impair your judgement. Remember what happened to that elderly man last month who died? You took that fairly hard. You didn't eat for most of the following week. I don't want to see you waste away and suffer like that again."

Harry felt something stir painfully in his chest. He didn't want to think about poor old Arthur who hadn't made it, no matter what he had tried to do. It was hard not to become friends with the elderly red-haired man. He was ever so charming, always prattling about how fascinating the muggles were. Harry had enjoyed taking care of him until that ground breaking morning when he had gone in and found a nurse stripping down Arthur's bed and vanishing the dirty sheets with a lazy flick of her wand before casting another spell to have clean sheets and pillowcases onto the bed, ready for the new patient. It had hurt as he'd watched the nurse carry on about her day as though Arthur had never existed. He shouldn't have let it affect him so much, especially when he dealt with dead peoples bodies every day, so why did Arthur make him suffer so greatly? Maybe it was because despite being old and frail and suffering from something that had turned out to be incurable, he had taken every day with a pinch of salt, enjoyed everything around him and never ceased to find something wonderful to tell Harry about, even if it was simply how wonderful the porridge had been that morning.

He shook his head suddenly aware that he had been standing in Snape's doorway and was staring over at him with his dark features drawn into a frown. He cleared his throat and looked Snape dead in the eye, "Don't worry, Professor. I have learned my lesson from Arthur Weasley and I can assure you that my friendship with Draco Malfoy will not affect how I treat him as a patient."

Severus inclined his head, "See that it doesn't Harry. You're a smart boy and I'd hate to see you suffer like that again. Especially if you can help it. Now go, you have a lot of work to do this morning," he stated as he waved Harry off, dismissing him as he returned his attention to the work splayed across his desk.

For his part Harry tried to keep himself as busy as possible, his heart racing at the most menial of tasks and earning peculiar glances from Ronald and Dennis as he raced through each of the wards appointing new medicines and salves for severe curse burns and helping to ease some of the rambling patients in the spell-damage ward to quieten down and wash them manually. Some of the nurses tended to be lazy and scourgify them, but Harry found that that left them irritable and the skin became raw and red, almost like a rash. Harry didn't mind doing a few things manually. It was just the way that some people forgot that some hands-on things would work wonders if they were to lose their wands, which happened more often than not.

By the end of the day, leaning over a bubbling cauldron, he felt exhausted but there was a small encouraging voice in the back of his mind telling him that it was worth it. He could be on the verge of a medical breakthrough for the wizarding community, and if he were Draco would be a part of that discovery. He couldn't deny he was excited about it. As the night wore on and the deadline for the potion was drawing to a close, he couldn't help but let Severus' words echo in his head. He was going to be professional when it came to Draco's health but at the same time he was a friend now and that meant doing whatever it could take to ensure that your friend got as good medical attention as possible. And if he was the one to do that then so be it. It just meant that he knew the job would be done well. As soon as the potion had brewed, he lifted it off the burner to cool and cleared away his appliances before ladling the contents of the cauldron into several phials for Severus' stock and a few for him to take in his trunk to the Manor.

When he got back to his room later that night, the steep staircases making his legs ache even more than they had earlier, he went about packing his trunk with the few potions he had researched and found in storage, including the one he had brewed after hours, and piled a few medical journals inside to read if Draco was feeling too weak and needed some company, as well as a new bound journal of his own to start recording his findings and research. He hadn't added everything he'd already researched as yet, because he wanted to cast some diagnosis spells on Draco's chest to see if he was able to detect the areas of pain and compare it to the diagnosis chart he had copied down during his lunch break. Kneeling back on his haunches he felt satisfied that he had everything and then settled down to sleep.

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><p><strong>AN: Yes, that is where Part 1 ends, but I had to cut it off otherwise it would be 17K long which is a lot to read in one go.**


	2. PAST Part 2

Rating: M

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter.

Disclaimer: France, 1852. Harry Potter is the apprentice to Head Healer Snape in Calais, and is taken on a weekend to Paris to attract potential clients. During that weekend he meets aristocrat Draco Malfoy, suffering from consumption. Ten years later Harry suffers his worst nightmare of a very ill Draco disappearing over the side of boat. Should he listen to his heart and go in and rescue his lover? Or should he simply let his suffering end at the bottom of the river? Either way he may have to go into the deep to find the answers. This tale faces the hardships of Stockholm Syndrome, severe depression, and a battered tormented love buried deep inside.

I do not own Harry Potter.

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><p><span><strong>Into the Deep<strong>

**PAST**

**Part 2**

"I SAID GET _OUT_!" Draco barked as loudly as he could, which was quite a strain considering how strained and tight his voice felt in his throat, as he threw his breakfast bowl over at the maid who had refused to leave him alone. She had insisted on trying to feed him but he hadn't been in the mood to be fed. He hadn't even been hungry, so why hadn't she listened to him? He was fed up with no one listening to him especially whenever he fell ill.

He slumped in a sweating heap among his pillows, his arms folded over his chest and his skin feeling sickly and almost wet all over from how much he had been sweating due to his current fever. His energy had all but left him since he'd written his latest letter to Harry five days ago. He was getting a little anxious at not having gotten a response yet and it was already Tuesday evening. He hated being ill because it meant that every one of his meals would consist of breakfast items, the easier for him to digest, and he loathed every moment of it. A letter from Harry would really have made him feel better at that moment but he supposed that the brunette young man had a lot of studying to do. He didn't mind about that but he did get anxious whenever he didn't get a letter. His correspondence with Harry was the only thing that seemed to alleviate the sheer boredom of hanging around the manor all day long. A knock on his door interrupted his musings and he felt his anger burn up inside him once again and he was just about to yell for them to get away when his door opened. He tossed his head to the side and almost regretted his angered expression when he saw who was standing in the doorway.

"H-Harry?" he asked praying to Merlin that he wasn't suffering from delirium again. He didn't need that again. He tossed his head from side-to-side and groaned and honestly didn't need his mind playing tricks on him again. "If you're not real please get out of my sight. I'm in no mood for this idiocy today!" he snapped knowing full well that any figment of his imagination would simply stay to antagonize him.

"You're not becoming delirious as well, I hope?" Harry hedged his voice as wondrous and flooded with concern as it had been a few months ago when they had first met at the function in central Paris. Draco watched as Harry edged around his bed and settled himself in the chair that had been pulled up to the side of Draco's bed by his mother a few days before. He watched as Harry sat down and propped his briefcase up against the ornate bedside table and leaned over so that he could study Draco a little closer. "You're looking far too pale, have you been eating?"

"God, you sound like mother," Draco rasped forcing his head to look away from Harry. He didn't want to be studied and scrutinized. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought I told you not to come this week?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders before standing up and pressing the back of his hand to Draco's forehead before frowning. "I came because I felt like you needed someone to look after you and judging by the state of you, no one really has except for that poor maid you screamed at." Draco huffed and didn't bother answering. He listened as Harry shuffled around his room and then went over to the door of his bedchamber and called for a maid. He couldn't make out the younger man's mutterings but he was sure he wasn't going to like it. Once the door was closed again, Harry turned his attention to the blonde man swathed in sweaty, knotted bedclothes. "I've asked the maids to prepare a bath for you and some light supper for the both of us. Proper food, none of this breakfast nonsense they had you living on. That won't do you any good at all. You need regular sustenance and to be able to let the potions I have for you work." Draco blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected any of those things. He felt his mouth hang open uselessly as he watched Harry come over to the side of his bed and reach for the knotted ties of the blonde's nightshirt.

He shifted away, glaring weakly up at the brunette man who seemed unfazed. "What are you doing?" he asked irritably, feeling his greasy skin getting wetter. A bath would definitely feel great right now. Being clean would be a blessing.

Harry let his hands drop away, "Untie your nightshirt and open it up for me. I need to run some diagnostic spells on you to see where the pains are in your chest and work from there. Is that alright?"

"W-why?" Draco rasped awkwardly as he weak fingers fumbled with the knot.

"I want to help you get better," Harry stated simply at though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Draco frowned but managed to rip open his nightshirt and splay it on either side of his ribcage. He watched through hooded eyes as Harry cast the spells required and frowned at the darkened areas were the most pain was coming from. He dismissed the charm and then drew out his personal journal and noted it down. "For now, I want to try and get your fever down alright? Then I can start tackling whatever is wrong with your chest, how does that sound?"

"Dismally boring," Draco huffed, "But go ahead if you must. Just let me know when I have to have my stupid bath," the blonde groused as he folded his arms back over his chest.

Harry chuckled to himself, such a pleasant sound that Draco almost relaxed a little against his sweat-stained pillows. The silk would be ruined there was no doubt about that. "I'm going to give you your bath, Draco. I have some scent oils in my satchel along with some properties that general help to strengthen your muscles for short periods of time. It'll give you enough energy to sit about for a couple of hours for when we eat and then when the maids strip your bed sheets. Yes I asked them about that as well," he added at Draco's surprised face that turned to him.

Draco gave a weak smirk, "You really do think of everything, don't you Harry?"

Harry nodded his head and then looked up when a couple of young men in grubby clothes carried a large tin tub into the bedroom, water sloshing weakly just over the sides and onto the marble floor. A young maid hurried behind and mopped the floor dry. They set the bath down and Harry thanked them and then dismissed them all with a polite smile. As soon as Draco was stripped down, his face aflame as he tensed up as Harry lifted him up and out of his bed before he lowered the blonde man into the warm soapy water. As Draco sank down so that his chin was resting on the water, Harry fumbled around rolling his sleeves up and then dribbling a phial of pale pink liquid into the bath. Immediately, Draco felt his legs strengthen a little in their resolve, having felt as weak as spaghetti not seconds beforehand. He felt like he had more energy. He hadn't felt so relieved in ages. He hummed as he soaked in the bath, oblivious to the made stripping the bed of his silk bed sheets. He didn't register Harry telling them to have basic cotton sheets, silk would do nothing for his fever and they weren't to ever use it again when he was ill or on the verge of getting ill. They'd nodded and took the ruined sheets down to the furnace.

Draco watched from his armchair an hour later wrapped in a simple thin dressing down, a fresh nightshirt and a pair of slippers on his feet. He was eating a light dinner of fruit, dry seeded bread and cold cuts of meat and a bowl of soup. It wasn't a lot but he felt if he'd tried anything more he'd have been sick in the bathtub. Harry didn't mind the simple meal. It was good that he didn't because he had been scribbling in his journal for the past hour whilst explaining to Draco as simply as possible what he planned to achieve, and sometimes curing a fever may be the easiest way to go but it was also a good 'ice breaker' in some successful journals that he had read over the last few weeks. It was interesting and he had a good time watching how Harry's eyes sparkled.

All too soon the clock on the mantelpiece of Draco's fireplace chimed that it was midnight and Draco inwardly groaned before forcing himself up onto his legs, the effects of the potions weakening a little as he staggered over to the large bed that accepted his weight. The cotton sheets felt heavier on his skin but his temperature didn't flare up like it had every other night. He felt good as he was fed a potion to help combat his temperature, whilst a cooling charm was cast over his sheets. Harry smiled at him and brushed the blonde man's fringe aside, "Sleep tight Draco. I'll see you in the morning."

The blonde hasn't heard him though. He had already sunk into his first blissful sleep in weeks.

By the time he woke up the following morning he truly did feel rested for the first time in a very long time. Whatever Harry done had literally been nothing short of a miracle. His muscles still felt a little weak still but his belly had been filled and his mind had been put to rest for ten hours straight! He turned against the basic cotton linen –really, he hadn't know they'd owned anything less fine than satin –and started slightly when he caught sight of Harry sitting in the armchair at the head of his bed with his journal in his lap and a quill poised in his hand. "How long have you been awake?" he rasped his voice still dusty from having not used it except to yell at the staff.

"Only about an hour," Harry stated calmly as he dotted the end of a sentence and then leaned back in his chair to observe Draco. "You're looking better already. Baths and cooling charms do often work wonders when it comes to bringing down a fever. I would normally use magic but I want your body to build up its natural defences for next time this happens." He placed his journal to one side and stood up to hook his arms underneath Draco's armpits and haul him upright against his pillows. "I've ordered some breakfast to be brought up for us. And then you are going to take some potions I brought you, alright?"

"What potions?" Draco asked sceptically.

"It's a mild variation of a cleansing potions; it's going to cleanse out any bacteria you might have in your lungs. It takes about three hours to complete its cycle and once it's done I can determine if it is a virus that's affecting you or something worse."

"You really think it could be worse?" the blonde man asked as he wrapped a sheet around his shoulders, a cold shiver passing through him. He watched Harry's honest face betray his ignorance.

"Honestly? I'm not entirely sure. Whoever treated you before left some very indecipherable notes so I've opted to start from scratch. I hope you don't mind," he added in a cautious voice, his bright green eyes landing on Draco's face and the blonde man found himself shaking his head and swallowing thickly.

"Not at all. I trust your judgement." It had been an odd thing to say but after weeks of correspondence and weekend visits he honestly did trust the brunette man before him. Besides, he couldn't lie to Draco worth a damn. Then again, he was cunning in that sense; always being honest with those around still left people questioning him though they had no proof against him. "You're going to make a wonderful healer one day, Harry. I can literally tell you right here and now that you will be a world class healer but the time you're my age."

Harry laughed lightly, "I'm twenty-two, Draco. You're only five years older than me. It'd take a lot longer than that for me to even breathe near Snape's ranks no matter how hard I push myself."

Draco reached out just as Harry was taking his temperature and slipped his long pale fingers around Harry's wrist and in a sober voice he murmured, "I believe you can do it."

Harry looked down into Draco's warm grey eyes and for a while neither of them said anything, nor did Draco loosen his grip on Harry's wrist. It was only when the door was nudged open and a young maid teetered in did they break contact with one another.

In the few weeks that followed Harry cherished his time at the manor, regularly checking up on Draco and detailing the blonde in his findings. Due to several new diagnostic spells with the aid of a new sensory potion, Harry had been able to determine that the pressure being felt on the blonde's already weak lungs was in a very weak state now and was not being caused by a virus. This had puzzled him greatly until he'd read a medical journal sent to him by his father about a man named Robert Koch who had identified that the bacillus causing diseases identical to Draco's as _M. tuberculosis_, and had been identified and described on 24 March and then sent to press. Harry had then informed Snape and together they had begun creating weak vaccination salves to rub of the chest. Initially it was to help stop the disease from getting worse, and in time reduce the risk of it. Naturally, they still worked on creating an all-time cure but for that particular summer the salves and later a mild potion helped many people literally breathe a little easier. Draco had been most impressed that he didn't get breathless as easily, not even from coming up the grand staircase to his bedchamber. He knew he had been right to trust in Harry's judgement.

His mother and father had simply been delighted to know that he seemed to be getting better, although they were warned by Severus that they were still a long way off from finding a lasting cure.

For his part Harry felt such great relief that he had been able to aid in Draco's good health and found studying and working on his personal assignment almost 'fun'. He enjoyed it and the research was lodged in his brain from having reiterated to Draco two weekends in a row. Not that he cared. He loved to spend time with Draco and travelling to Paris was a nice change of scenery from Calais, especially the hospital and his gloomy little room.

Draco had once pleaded with Harry –as much as a Malfoy would plead anyway –for the brunette man to take him back to Calais with him to see the place where he worked and where he lived. He said he wanted to know and see everything about Harry's life and be able to envision things happening during the time where his companion was away studying. Harry had insisted it was nothing special, even going as far as to say that the air in Calais would harm Draco's progress, which had angered the blonde into ignoring him for a full two hours. It stung Harry deep down but he merely feigned disinterest, instead spending the quiet down-time to read through his assignment to make sure it was coherent for the board. Eventually the silence had grown too much for Draco and he snapped that they were being stupid little brats, and thus their argument was forgotten for the most part.

On one of Draco's braver nights he and Harry went walking along the streets of Paris, not bothering with travelling cloaks as the weather was rather balmy to say the least. They had walked along the Seine and then gotten some port at a high-end bar that Lucius often frequented with clients. They had drunk and talked and become a little careless as they wandered back through the darkening streets, almost leaning against one another out of comfort rather than the bubbles fizzing at the back of their throats. Harry had felt somewhat lightheaded and didn't really remember climbing up the marble staircase or even somehow being coherent enough to change out of his clothes and slip into one of Draco's nightshirts that had been too baggy on him but he didn't are because it had smelled wonderful. He did, however, remember waking up bleary-eyed with a pressure humming in his skull in a grand four-poster bed –and he wasn't alone. He had wanted to yelp at Draco's arm so carelessly tossed over his naked waist, for the nightshirt had ridden up to his chest during his sleep, but somehow the sound had latched in his throat. He didn't leap out of bed and hurry to his own room. Instead he settled back down and watched Draco as the man slept peacefully beside him, unaware of the flush on Harry's cheeks or the loud hammering of the brunette man's heart against his ribs.

Eventually Harry _had_ left and returned to his own room, still wearing Draco's nightshirt.

He tried his best not to let those moments distract him but it was extremely difficult when Draco stood before him, braced against the engraved bedposts in only a small towel wrapped around his hips, it became increasingly difficult for the brunette man to breathe. Even if Draco was on the skinny side, there was no denying he had some vague semblance of muscle from the effort of having to move himself around in such a weakened state. Over the course of the rest of the week that he had stayed on an emergency visit, Draco had made a marked improvement already and Harry had been really impressed and excited all at once. It amused the blonde man to no end to see how excited his companion would get. However, they were both unusually silent in the hour that Draco was naked and being examined over and over by the brunette, his calloused tanned hands running over his pale muscles, his nimble fingertips brushing gently over the contours of his torso that always made him shiver. The feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant. He didn't say anything though, but Harry didn't seem to mind to touch him once he got the confidence brought on by at least two glasses of rich wine.

On what would initially be Harry's last weekend at the manor before he needed to buckle down and study for his exams, not that they had known it until the following Monday, Harry had been in a bad mood for some reason or other. His physical examination seemed cold and almost foreboding as he helped Draco slip back into some fresh clean clothes, and then stationed himself at the ornate oak desk and buried himself in his work of sketching out Draco's body once again, an image that was always freshly engrained into his subconscious at the end of every day, before he took a break from his writing, to read to Draco and update him on any developments with his body as well as make sure he took his vital potions, no matter how bitter they tasted. Draco didn't necessarily like when Harry was in that particular sort of mood, he knew it was bound to have come to light sooner or later, but he didn't know the cause of it –unless it was himself –or just that the brunette man hadn't slept well. At around two o'clock in the afternoon, he'd had enough of the self-enforced silence on Harry's part and decided to ask. "Harry is there something that's bothering you today? You've been unusually quiet," Draco stated in a quiet tone as he read through one of his own books, comfortably propped in his armchair.

Harry peered up over the top of where he was over-checking some of his work and frowned heavily, "No, nothing's bothering me why do you think there is?"

"You've practically ignored me all day, I just want to know if I've done something to upset you," Draco state as though it wasn't really a big deal with a shrug.

Harry sighed and then pinched the bridge of his nose, "I know I'm sorry," he breathed, "It's just so suffocating being trapped in this room all the time. You got better a week ago I just don't understand why we can't even go out in the manor gardens and walk about in the fresh air. You need fresh air, as much as you can get of it before the winter months set in."

Draco frowned at the words and then found himself laughing, a bright chiming sound that startled Harry into a somewhat better mood, with his blonde head thrown back and his lungs aching sweetly at the effort. "Oh, Harry!" he gushed as he tilted his head to one side and stared intently at the brunette man, "If that's all you wanted you only had to say. Everyone judges what to do with me based on what you tell them. If you'd simply said so, it would have been established!" he wiped at his eyes of the weak tears of mirth that had trembled out, before swallowing and taking a long swig of iced water from his goblet.

When he looked over at Harry he saw that the younger man and bowed his head and was blushing in embarrassment. "That honestly didn't cross my mind at all. Goodness, I feel such a fool!" he huffed and tossed his quill to the desk and slumped back.

He looked like a distressed child and Draco actually felt somewhat sorry for him once his humour had died down a little. He leaned over and touched a hand to his companions shoulder, "Come on then, let's just go out into the gardens. We can bring some of your journals as well and sit underneath one of the blossom trees by the pond."

Harry peeked up at the blonde through his thick fringe that hadn't been styled that morning, the flush still tinting his cheeks, and let himself smile a little. "Alright then, get some comfortable shoes on and then we can go down to these blossoms of yours."

Draco was only too happy to oblige, with the aid of a slender ash cane, and soon he was walking around with Harry through the hush of green grass in the manicured manor gardens and loved the feel of the sunshine adding a gentle flush to his pale, waxy skin. He looked almost angelic as they strolled along the pathways, his chiselled features gleaming in the afternoon light. Harry forced himself to look away, not wanting to be caught staring. He didn't think that the blonde had noticed, but he had. Conversation didn't stray from having tea with his mother a few days prior and the upcoming exams that Harry was almost certain that he would fail. As soon as they came to a stop underneath the shade of some blossoms trees, the cool air surfing off the top of the pond soothing their heated skin, Draco rested down among the knotted roots on top of the blanket Harry had brought with him and opened his book in his lap. Harry mirrored his movements. "You're going to do fine you know?" Draco stated after half an hour of silent reading, as he glanced sideways at Harry, their shoulders so close to brushing against one another.

"You can't possibly know that, Draco, but I am grateful for your support. I wouldn't be able to do any of this without you," Harry sighed and leaned his head back on the tree trunk.

Draco reached out and grasped Harry's hand in his own, "Don't doubt yourself for a moment. You are the smartest person Severus has ever taken on, and I should know. I've seen the letters he sends to father. You are going to be fine, I promise you."

Harry looked down at their entwined fingers and then up at the warm smoky grey eyes that were boring down into his own. The proximity and his gaze combined made Harry suddenly feel exposed and vulnerable, almost the same way Draco was when he was bared and naked for Harry to examine him. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. A shadow passed over the sun and a cool breeze made Harry shiver, unintentionally leaning closer to the blonde. "D-Draco …"

There was a crack that streaked through the sky, a flash of bright light and then a torrent of thick, heavy raindrops began pelting down across the grounds. Harry gasped and bolted up to his feet as though he'd personally been struck by lightning. Draco scurried up to his feet tugging the blanket up as he leaned heavily on the tree trunk. Harry didn't notice how close they were, tucked underneath the weak shelter of the blossom tree. Draco couldn't help but smile. It had been ages since he'd gotten caught in such bad weather so suddenly. The laugh that bubbled out made Harry look up at him as if he were mad, but he didn't care. He stepped out from the blossoms, his cane dropping into the grass, as he tilted his chin up, spread his arms wide and laughed up into the falling rain, feeling as though he were being reborn into a fresh new chapter of his life.

And that chapter included Harry at all costs.

Tartan suddenly obscured his view of the sky and he dropped his arms and his gaze to see Harry stretching his arms high over both of their heads. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Harry completely soaked through, his satchel slung around his wrist and his hair plastered down to his face. "We need to get you inside before you catch another fever!" Harry shouted over the roar of the rain that hammered down all around them, the tartan blanket providing barely any shelter as the torrent grew heavier and heavier. Draco didn't complain as Harry grabbed at his elbow and steered them towards one of the many back doors that led into the manor. As they stumbled in through to the marbled floor they almost slipped over as rain water dripped off them and puddled around the door. Draco bit back another bought of laughter as Harry draped the tartan blanket down and tried to soak up some of the rain water with the ringing wet blanket.

Some maids trailed into the room with fresh tablecloths and gasped when they saw the two young men ringing wet and shuddering slightly. "Master Draco! We must get you into a hot bath right away!" one of them chimed and started to usher the blonde man out towards the grand staircase, quickly followed by another maid ushering Harry out and chattering about getting him a bath as well. Harry couldn't complain but he didn't like the sight of Draco being taken away and 'looked after' out of his line of vision. How did they know what to do for him and what about his potions? If they didn't apply them then he could suffer a severe set-back. If not, as soon as he was dressed he would need to get back in to the blonde's bedchamber and rub one of his salves onto the blonde's chest to ease his breathing.

He couldn't relax throughout his bath until he was let out and allowed to dress in a nightshirt and a summer dressing robe that he cinched tightly around his waist and paced his room back and forth for a while, even going as far to as ignore the call for dinner. He told the maid that he wasn't feeling too hungry and the enquired as to how Draco was fairing up. The young maid bowed her head and stated that the young master was asleep now and seemed a little on the warm side. Harry slumped down in the armchair in his small bedchamber –one of the guest ones –and watched the clock as it ticked another half an hour of his life away before he felt as though the coast would be clear outside for him to creep along to Draco's bedchamber and check on him. He wanted to persuade himself that he was merely curious as a physician, but a sickly fear swelled in the back of his mind and he found himself holding his breath as he inched closer to Draco's door, knocked lightly, and then walked in uninvited.

The voile curtains were drawn across the tall windows, letting in a strained orange glow of the sunset into the room. It tinted everything with a burning glow that left him breathless as he deflated and leaned back against the door, clicking it shut behind him. Draco didn't shift or stir in his sleep. Taking the small salve from the bedside table he knelt down on Draco's mattress, feeling it sink underneath him, before he unfastened the ties of Draco's nightshirt and splayed them out, exposing the pale smooth skin. He swallowed thickly, feeling his body temperature rise up as he daubed his fingers with the yellow salve and started to rub it in soothing circles over Draco's chest. Almost immediately he could detect a change in the older man's breathing. As soon as the salve had soaked through into his chest cavity, Harry drew his wand out and performed another diagnostic spell to determine if Draco had caught the onset of a cold or a brand new fever. Thankfully both the tests were negative and he left out a soft sigh. He turned to place his wand and the salve on the bedside table and froze when he turned back around.

Draco's eyes were open and his breathing was a little more laboured at the sight of Harry clothed in only a nightshirt and dressing down perched on the edge of his bed. "I'm sorry," Harry breathed, not really knowing why he was whispering, "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Draco shook his head, "You didn't," he murmured and winced as Harry shifted to try and move away. Draco reached out and snatched the brunette's man's wrist, drawing him lower down towards him, "You don't need to go anywhere. You can sit here if you want."

Harry shook his head, "You need your rest. I only wanted to make sure you weren't suffering unduly."

Draco didn't loosen his grip on Harry's arm, if anything he tightened it. His face was serious if a little tired. He shook his head firmly, "I don't want you to go anywhere."

The words made Harry feel embarrassed but he didn't understand why. He merely allowed himself to be pulled down until he was leaning over Draco. He could feel the breath rushing down his chest from where the blonde was breathing up against him. He could feel every muscle in his body vibrating with anticipation as Draco reached up with quavering fingers to gently tousle through Harry's dark hair. To his surprise, he felt that the blonde man's touch was exciting him in a way he wasn't used to. It unnerved him but a tiny voice in the back of his head insisted he didn't want it to stop. He felt tense as Draco dared to trail his fingers lower, down the length of his flushed throat and drifting down his chest muscles and tickling the trail of dark hair at the top of his abdomen. "Draco … What are you doing?" he finally managed to breathe

Draco kept his eyes locked with Harry's letting his hands wander freely, touching as much of exposed skin on Harry's chest as he could reach. He watched as Harry's breathing grew heavy and uneven, heaving underneath the palm of his hand. He felt so beautifully warm. He leaned up a little in his bed and winced as Harry shifted away, almost out of reach. Thrusting his arm forward he snatched at the back of Harry's nightshirt and drew him back down, his legs slipping in between Harry's through the bed sheets. A shiver ran through the brunettes muscles, making Draco ache to wrap his arms around the younger man. "Kiss me," he panted heavily, feeling his stomach knotting in the fear that Harry would bolt out of his room, and out of his life.

"W-what?!" Harry rasped out, his eyes wide and confused.

Draco sat up fully and threaded both of his hands through the soft black hair, gripping Harry's face between his hands and staring fully into his eyes, both of their breathing hushed and laboured between them. The weight of the younger man in his lap made every muscle inside him ache and burn. "I said that I want you to kiss me," he panted.

"You are delirious," Harry affirmed, finally finding his voice, "Let me go back to my bedchamber and get some more of my potions for you."

"Harry," Draco insisted firmly his eyes bright and serious, "I am perfectly well. Just let me have this, okay? No one will know and it's not like you haven't woken up in my bed."

Those words hardly made Harry relax as he allowed Draco to push him down against the pillows; threading a leg between the chilled tanned ones and feeling Harry tense up beside him. He wanted so desperately for the younger man to relax and to trust him and to want this as much as he wanted it. He ran his hand over the nightshirt, not wanting to go underneath the fabric and frighten his companion. Above all Harry was afraid, but after the way he had cared for Draco and spent so much time with him, he couldn't think of what would truly hinder their friendship. He wasn't sure about how kissing the blonde would be a progression or a regression, but he couldn't deny that no one had said anything for ten minutes and he'd been staring at the blonde's pale pink lips. He licked his one lips and didn't object when Draco rested his head down in front of his, sharing the same pillow, and almost touching noses.

When Draco drew in a deep breath and lightly touched his lips against Harry's, it was such a feather light touch that Harry almost wasn't sure it had happened at all. He opened his eyes and watched as Draco waited for his reaction. He couldn't think of anything except how he wanted to feel those lips pressed firmer against his own. Sucking on his bottom lip, he leaned over and tentatively pressed his lips against Draco's and was surprised when he felt the warm pressure against his own. His eyes widened in surprise as he felt Draco's fingers creep around the nape of his neck. He shivered at the touch and gasped lightly, his eyes springing open when he felt Draco's warm wet tongue slip between his lips and touching lightly at his own. He leaned a little closer and hesitated before resting his own hand on Draco's hip through his nightshirt. They kissed lazily for a while, tasting one another gently, hands rarely drifting over muscles even through the nightshirt, and their bodies inching closer together on top of the mattress.

They broke apart and both of them were reluctant to shift away from one another. Harry rested his forehead against the blonde's and sighed shakily. "Nothing's going to change between us after this is it?" he asked, his mind over-turning with the possibilities of losing his friend.

Draco shook his head, "Why should we let it change anything between us? We're still friends first and foremost."

"What if someone were to find out about it?"

"Who is likely to tell such rumours, my letter opener? Be sensible, Harry," Draco chastised, not taking too kindly to the change of conversation.

Harry shook his head, "We shouldn't have kissed," he breathed turning away and making to move out of the large four poster bed and away from the warmth of the man he spent every week with. "I shouldn't be here. Not in your bed and kissing you. I'm sorry, Draco I –"

Draco cut him off with a firm kiss against his mouth; silencing Harry and making the brunette melt a little more into the mattress. "You talk too much, Potter," he murmured as he leaned over the brunette man. He stroked a strand of dark hair behind his ear and smiled softly down at him, "Let's not worry anymore, alright? You can sneak back to your bedchamber in the morning if you must, but for now just relax okay? If this is the only chance I get to do this, then let it happen now."

Harry still seemed unsure but was placated a little when Draco leaned down and rested back on the pillow getting his breathing evened out before slipping his hand down between their bodies and entwined their fingers together. At Harry's quaking, he gave a reassuring squeeze and smiled softly. "Just relax Harry," he breathed as he finally felt his eyelids grow a little heavier and soon he had drifted off to sleep, the weight of Harry's body against his reassuring and soothing all at once.

The following morning Draco woke up alone. He loathed the feeling of waking up alone and neglected in the late hours of the morning. He sank bank down into his pillows and drew his sheets up around his shoulders not wanting to seem as vulnerable as he felt.

That evening, Harry returned to Calais.

~0~

On the 23rd of June Harry Potted had his photo taken for passing his exams and being employed full-time at the hospital. He even had to make a speech and got to meet the muggleborn doctor, Robert Koch, from whom his personal assignment had been based upon. To Koch he was simply a devoted fan still in University, but to Harry he felt like he were walking in a dream. Despite not having found a long term cure for TB or Consumption as it was more commonly known, the disease that Draco was currently suffering from, his salves and potions that he'd concocted with Healer Snape were selling all over Paris and preventing a lot of premature deaths, if only by a few weeks in some severe cases.

Outside of his studying and preparation which had taken most of his spare time, Severus had insisted that Harry stay away from Malfoy Manor until after his exams. Normally, Harry would have protested but after that long night he had spent in Draco's bed with Draco's hands on his hips and his mouth on his lips, he felt that perhaps staying away from Paris wouldn't be too much of a challenge. The festivities of his passing had gone on until late in the evening, a lot of people including his own father came along to congratulate him. By the time he staggered up the stairs, high on appraisal and some light wine, he was exhausted and really looking forward to sleeping at long last. It truly had been a long week between the exam and learning that he had passed.

He hadn't told Draco. He'd barely written anything to the blonde man in the last month. He felt guilty about it, like he had abandoned the young master, but he couldn't help himself. The only thing he had sent was more bath oils, potions and salves in a one-off package that would last him a month.

He was a coward and he knew it.

He sighed as he fumbled with his key in his lock and pushed his bedroom door open and stopped dead. He blinked in surprise, feeling as though his eyes were playing a trick on him. "What are you doing here?" he asked in surprise, his stomach dropping through his shoes.

Draco turned away from the small window, leaning slightly on his cane and smirked at Harry. "I felt as though you were avoiding me so I thought I'd come and see what the problem was. Congratulations by the way, I told you that you'd pass."

Harry blushed and closed his door and placed the items in his hands on the small desk. "How did you get into my room?" he asked a little tightly.

"Severus let me in after he went to bed from the party," Draco stated before coming over to the brunette and placing both of his hands on the brunette's tense shoulders. "Relax, Harry," he breathed gently, "Nothing will happen that you don't want to happen, alright?"

Harry shifted away, "Nothing is ever going to happen again Draco!" he retorted tartly.

Draco pushed him up against the bedroom door and placed both of his arms on either side of Harry's head, "I beg to differ," he breathed, rubbing the ends of their noses together. Harry was about to push him away and protest when suddenly his arms were pinned over his head and his mouth was silenced by Draco's tongue forcing its way between his lips. He couldn't deny his blatant excitement pushing up through his robes, and gasped when Draco pressed up against him, their hips rutting together through the coarse cloth.

"Draco please …" Harry begged. He wasn't sure if he was begging for more or begging for Draco to stop.

"Tell me what you want, Harry," Draco growled low in his throat, his hands simply itching to tug at the robes on the brunette's body and to touch his skin again. He wanted to feel Harry pressed down on top of him and to feel himself pressed against his leg. Not that he couldn't deny Harry's obvious arousal straining between them. "Tell me. What you. Want!" he ground out so forcefully and thrust against the brunette before Harry bumped his head back against the door and moaned out loud as his hands sprung up and clutched at Draco's robes.

"Do whatever you want," he finally submitted unable to deny the obvious lust burning its way through his chest as he looked up into Draco's arousing smoky grey eyes. The taste of his mouth still hot and wet on Harry's lips as he licked them, "Do whatever you want to me, Draco Malfoy; just don't you dare make me regret a moment of it!"

The blonde aristocrat didn't need telling twice. Even when he got a little resistance from Harry it didn't last for long before the moans elicited from the younger man excited him even further. Harry had even started to shift about and unfastened the clasps of Draco's waistcoat and tugged his shirt out of his pressed trousers. Draco felt Harry's teeth grazing his skin and his answering arousal pressing up against Harry's thigh. He craned his neck back and shivered as the balmy air licked his exposed skin from where Harry had lifted his shirt up around his chest.

"Take me to bed, Draco," Harry growled lustfully. The blonde man didn't need telling twice as Harry was all but thrown onto his bed, the lean muscled blonde pressing down on him, the mattress groaning at their combined weight. Trousers and watch chains and shoes were tossed over onto the floor. As soon as Draco was completely naked he felt the fight ebb out of him as Harry sat before him and panting heavily. Both of their eyes wandered down one another's bodies and they both flushed bright red as they drank in how hard they both were.

"I want you to enjoy every moment of this Harry," he breathed steadily through the gloomy air.

Harry was still quite tense as Draco leaned further in between his legs, breathing heavily against his skin. "There's still a chance to turn back from this, you know?" he murmured gruffly.

Draco shook his head, "If you don't want to I won't force you."

Harry grabbed at Draco's face, his expression determined and flushed, "Just take me, Draco before I _do_ change my mind." Without another word he pressed his mouth roughly against the blonde's and kissed him with a passion Draco hadn't known he'd possessed. He kissed back and pressed them both down into the mattress, the bed creaking as the touched one another as they kissed. Every touch was intoxicating and drove Harry mad; they were skin on skin, mouth on mouth, rutting gently.

They made raw passionate love for the remainder of that evening, their loud moans echoing out throughout Harry's garret. His legs were pressed up to his chest as Draco thrust into him and made him moan and scream Draco's name in a heavy voice he didn't know he could make. Harry was so sweaty and sore that by the end of it he doubt he would walk for the remainder of the weekend, a difficult feat in itself considering he needed to move his belongings into his larger room a couple of floors up. As soon as Draco had exhausted the both of them, he made short work of stripping the soiled sheets out from underneath Harry, and spreading a thick blanket underneath despite his weakening legs and Harry's obvious discomfort at being moved. Once the bed and been sorted, the blinds shut and a small array of stub candles were lit and dotted around on Harry's desk, windowsill and the bedside tables, Draco went back to lay himself down beside Harry, curling himself around the brunette's back and draping an arm over his waist.

Nuzzling his face into Harry's damp neck he suddenly felt his eyes burn with the promise of tears, "Forgive me, Harry," he panted in his ear, his sweat cooling on his skin as he shivered lightly. He squeezed the younger man tighter and pressed a kiss to his forehead, "I'm sorry. I ruined you!"

Harry limply took one of Draco's hands in his own, laced their trembling fingers together and squeezed, "You've only ruined me for everyone else, Draco. I don't think that's going to matter anymore."

"Wha –what do you mean?" the blonde man hushed in a wet whisper.

"As long as I remain yours then it shouldn't matter, should it?" he asked softly, his heart hammering in his ears as he voiced the words into the still air. "And as long as we're discreet as possible."

Draco frowned and turned his head to look down at the young physician in his arms. "What are you saying Harry?"

"I shouldn't have to spell these things out for you, Draco," Harry snipped irritably as he wriggled further down into the last clean sheet over his body. "If you wish to continue this then I see no reason in denying you now."

Draco peered down at Harry, a weight unwinding from his chest and then rested back against the pillow, stroking the brunette's soft skin as he relaxed gently in his arms. Silence stretched out between them for a while before Draco decided to break the silence again, "You know, when you stopped writing to me, I thought you wouldn't appreciate me coming to congratulate you," he murmured softly as Harry shifted onto his other side, his face pressing lightly into Draco's chest. "I know you still probably don't but I needed to see you. It had been so long and Severus hadn't been forthcoming with any information." He paused and drew in a deep breath, "I wanted to see you one last time, even if it was the last time that I could."

"Did you plan any of this?" Harry breathed softly.

Draco shook his head, "I never thought you would allow me to do anything more than touch you and kiss you. I'm just as surprised as you are, believe me, but I don't regret one moment of it," he murmured softly as he tilted his chin and pressed a tender if hesitant kiss to Harry's forehead. He couldn't help but smile and blink away happy tears when he felt Harry wrap arm around his waist and draw their bodies closer together. "I never thought I'd get to see you like this again after your letters stopped. I had hoped you'd have written a letter and secreted it in that little care package you sent, but when I saw there was nothing I felt broken inside. Like something wasn't quite right with me."

Harry waited not wanting to break the monologue of his companion –lover? –because he so desperately wanted to hear what the older man needed to get off his chest.

"It took me ages to understand that I'd developed a sort of –infatuation with you. Although it may have been because you were the only one who seemed interested in taking care of me and making me feel better," he turned to look down at Harry who in turn was staring up at him, his soft green eyes wide open and intense. "You were the only one to give me hope, Harry. I couldn't thank you enough for that. I think I might even Lo-"

"No!" Harry snapped up and then groaned in agony against Draco's shoulder at the white hot pain that ripped through him. Blindly, he reached over to the bedside table to swipe a dab of healing salve on his fingers and used it to smear on his rectum. Once the pain had dissipated, he settled down beside Draco and looked at with firm eyes, "Don't say any of that. Not now and definitely not yet. This is going to take some time to get used to. Just … Can we at least get used to it first?" he almost pleaded with the blonde.

Draco wanted to object but he held his tongue and nodded, "Of course, Harry," he assured as he accepted the brunette back into his arms and cradled him in such an affectionate manner, it was such a sharp contrast to his sharp features and haughty disposition. Harry melted into his arms at the touch, his eyelids fluttering closed.

Draco had wanted to say the words that had bloomed in his brain less than a week ago and he had rushed to Calais as soon as Severus' invite had arrived. He promised not to rush Harry and he always kept his promises.

Harry knew though. Deep down they both knew exactly how the other felt. And it didn't scare either of them like it should've done.

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><p><strong>AN: Please read and review. It may be another week or so before the next two chapters are up, for PRESENT part 1 and 2. **


	3. PRESENT Part 1

Rating: M

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter.

Disclaimer: France, 1852. Harry Potter is the apprentice to Head Healer Snape in Calais, and is taken on a weekend to Paris to attract potential clients. During that weekend he meets aristocrat Draco Malfoy, suffering from consumption. Ten years later Harry suffers his worst nightmare of a very ill Draco disappearing over the side of boat. Should he listen to his heart and go in and rescue his lover? Or should he simply let his suffering end at the bottom of the river? Either way he may have to go into the deep to find the answers. This tale faces the hardships of Stockholm Syndrome, severe depression, and a battered tormented love buried deep inside.

I do not own Harry Potter.

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><p><strong>Into the Deep<strong>

**PRESENT**

**Part 1**

**Brittany, France, 1862**

_Clack … Clack … Clack!_

Those were the sounds of the rail that his train carriage was being pulled along on. It rocked from side to side through the gloom of the heavy twilight, the damp clinging to the paving stones as they passed from station to station, and the swollen black clouds made it appear much later than the time present on his muggle pocket watch. Cracking open his bleary eyes he felt a chill run through him and drew his arms tighter around his stomach. Another half an hour and he'd be walking up the narrow alleyway towards his large flat above the apothecary. He had finally worked up to being a full-fledged Healer, degree, certificates and everything. He had been so proud and excited when he'd gotten the news from Severus that he would be relieving some of his own duties on to Harry. It had taken the better part of six years, but along with Draco's inheritance –his mother had decided that if her grandchildren were not going to get it then Draco should invest it however he saw fit –they managed to buy an old apothecary from an elderly man who had wanted to retire. They got the building fairly cheap, but winning over the business partners were another matter entirely.

Thankfully, that was a niche that Draco could excel in even in his sleep; six months before they had opened for business they had held a function in a nearby hotel to show their potential business partners that they were serious. It didn't take all that long to convince them to continue signing on and delivering their stock and trades to their apothecary. Draco had even managed to get a couple new accounts for private buyers, which would allow their prestige to grow at a rapid rate. And it had. Harry couldn't thank Draco enough for that.

Only a couple of more stops until the train reached the terminal in Brittany central. It had taken a lot to convince Narcissa and Lucius that going into business with Draco was better if they started somewhere well-known but not as raw and open as Paris. They needed to start small just in case that it didn't work out, then at least not many of their social circles in Paris would know about it, only rumours. When faced with this predicament, it was only a matter of a couple of weeks before Draco's inheritance had been signed over, secreted in several discreet banks. Harry had been made to swear an oath that unless it was stated so in Draco's will, he had no say or claim over what happened with the blonde man's money. Luckily for everyone involved, Harry had made a decent amount of his own small fortune as a Healer and also brewing potions for some of his own private clients, those of which were now clients assigned to their apothecary. It was also a huge improvement that the apothecary came with a large apartment right above it, so finding somewhere to live hadn't been a struggle for either one of them. Draco had taken a little while to adapt to the smaller size of the place, but after a while he decided he preferred a 'cosy' home than a large, empty one.

The screech of the train against the rails echoed through the glass windows and grated on Harry's frail nerves. It had been a long weekend. He had gone to see Severus at the hospital with a package he'd packed of stronger salves that healed deep wounds a lot quicker with a sedative laced into it, in case there was any pain left behind, there were new potions for the consumption disease that was miles ahead of the ones the muggles had created, and they had managed to save numerous people. His name had been in the papers for a good few weeks after they'd created the stronger potion as the morality rate of the wizarding community had drastically improved in the last five years since Harry had passed his exams. Draco's own health seemed to be less of a burden on both of their minds although it was a constant black shadow that followed Harry around, dogging his steps and taunting him during the long nights down in the potions lab in the back room. When the weather started to get like how it was now, it would be like old people with arthritis; harder to move and harder to breathe; increase irritability and lack of energy. Harry did his best to make the blonde man as comfortable as possible, but sometimes he felt as though he was losing his firm hold on the life around him.

And that though frightened him almost more than the thought of losing Draco did.

He was bone tired and cold by the time he stepped off of the train, leather satchel in his hand, bumping against his knee, as he staggered awkwardly along the station, his legs feeling heavy and his head swimming through a fog as though he was disorientated and didn't know where he was going. Only, he did know. He could walk the familiar route blind-folded if he needed to. He pressed his eyes closed and drew in a long damp breath before exhaling and forcing himself to move out along the main road, keeping himself sheltered in the shadows of the buildings and shuffling his way along to the apothecary and the warm welcoming flat perched on top of it. As he drew nearer to the tall building looming up over him, he stopped on the opposite side of the street. His breathing was shaky, most likely a common cold creeping into his system. He was grateful he had a never ending supply of pepper-up in the storeroom. He ran a hand down his face and felt the energy ebb away. He didn't want to put on a brave but tired face as he went in to Draco. He didn't want to be anywhere near Brittany. He'd much prefer to return to Paris and work the nightshirt at the hospital just to avoid sleeping and the darkness pressing up through the lid of the box that he'd buried it in in the back of his mind.

The stairs creaked underfoot as he mounted them one at a time, his body feeling heavier and heavier as he drew closer to the landing at the top outside their apartment door. He slid his key out of his waistcoat pocket and slipped it into the lock. The sound grated against his eardrums and he winced. Forcing his weight on the door he was admitted into the room and couldn't help but feel surprised at the sight that greeted him beyond the threshold. "What's all this?" he croaked tiredly as he dropped his briefcase down behind the front door, a few empty phials clinking together gently, before removing his travelling cloak and hanging it up on the carved oak coat-stand in the corner of the entrance.

Draco looked up at him smiling gently and stepped forward to stroke his fingers against Harry's cheek. The brunette man shivered involuntarily and averted his gaze before licking his lips and forcing a smile onto his mouth. His eyes drifted over to the candlelight that was flickering over the softly painted walls. Draco's eyes shone with a hurt glint but it was gone within a moment as he turned with a smile on his pale pink lips, "Well you have been working yourself ragged these past few weeks and I just didn't want you to come home another night and have to struggle about cooking, so I thought I would sort it out for you." He hesitated for a moment before shifting a little awkwardly, "I know things at work are difficult for you and I know my bought of illness are hardly what you want to come home to, and I'm sorry for that. I just wanted to make some of it up to you, in any little way that I can."

Guilt pinched lightly at Harry's heart as he drank in Draco's words, slightly muffled as they were through the fog in his mind. His throat felt tight and dry as he looked as the small meal Draco had prepared for the both of them and instantly he felt bad for taking on longer shifts as the hospital just so that he would be too busy to think about anything other than the matter at hand. He had been running himself ragged and he knew it. It was only when he saw Draco's angelic if slightly damp features that he felt that annoying pinch of his guilt in his chest. It twinged and would soon burn up throughout his chest by the end of the evening. He looked up at Draco and forced another tight little smile. "You honestly didn't have to go through all this trouble just for me," he managed to rasp out as his blonde companion poured him a goblet of smooth, light wine and he sipped at it. His throat instantly felt better. He winced inwardly as Draco pressed his lips against his hair and the warmth spread down through his temples.

"It's no trouble," Draco breathed as his tender hands slipped down to the brunette's shoulders and kneaded the tense muscles. Harry felt himself a little shaking breath before closing his eyes and allowing his lovers touch spread warmth and relaxation into his muscles. Why had he been avoiding this man's touches these last few weeks, when they felt so beautiful even through clothes? What had he been so afraid of returning home for? Why did he always take a glass of whiskey before he got on the train home every night?

He felt his stomach knot in disgust at himself as he had waited longer and longer to take the last train in the evening from Paris so that by the time he got home he was too hungry and exhausted to do anything other than fall straight to sleep as Draco would have fallen asleep at least two hours beforehand. He had even come home one night, around the same time as tonight, and had ended up crying himself into a state as Draco had fallen asleep on the table with a candle burning down to a stump in its holder and a roast poussin turned stone cold in front of him. Once he'd stripped the blonde and put him safely in bed and dispensed with the ruined food, he had gone down into the main shop downstairs, crouched into a corner behind the counter and cried and screamed into his knees whilst clutching at his ears so as not to wake Draco. He had cried until his skull had felt hot beneath his skin and his tears were scorching trails down his skin. He wept until he'd choked on his own saliva and blood from where he'd been biting his tongue.

Since then he _had_ been making more of an effort to force himself to leave the hospital before the night staff came on duty, but it was difficult. He didn't know why –if he did he would fix it –but it was so difficult to find his home and Draco alluring when something in his mind was forcing himself to think of work nonstop.

They kept the dinner conversation light, not veering onto anything too heavy like why this was the earliest Harry had been home in the last month. For his part, Draco couldn't risk himself looking too disheartened. He was relieved when Harry had promised him early that morning that he would be home at a reasonable time for dinner. More reasonable than it had been recently anyway. The food was good, thank goodness, because if Draco had unintentionally gave Harry food-poisoning after a long month of late shifts and running himself into the ground, he didn't think he could forgive himself. Draco didn't know what was bothering his lover –could he still call him that? –but whatever it was it was making the younger man look older than his thirty-two years. Draco already knew he was beginning to age with his receding hairline and weakening muscles but he still made an effort to take a stroll around central Paris with his mother and a few friends from his University days. He needed to keep himself occupied outside of his business with Harry, although, now even that was difficult now that he had to work in the shop day-in and day-out.

He still remembered when their business was first up and running and he manned the counter whilst Harry checked on brewing potions in the back room. That had been when Draco was learning how to run the shop on his own, for the most part, and learning about the 'tricks of the trade' as Harry had called it. He was glad that the brunette had talked him into starting a business. They'd had so much fun behind the counter as they'd boxed up small packages of pepper-up for a worrying mother to send to her son in boarding school, or explained to an elderly gentleman how to apply the salve that would ease up the rheumatism in his legs when it got wet. He had been so bored beforehand, always in the manor and shuffling from room to room as though he were a ghost already, instead of a living breathing being. Harry had changed his life quite literally for the better. It had been thrilling too, the minute risks they came to take in their day-to-day life; Draco would be behind the counter, describing a new scented powder that would clear up baby's rash –something that had taken Harry months to perfect properly –when Harry would come up behind him, an arm loaded with wares and his hand would graze against Draco's arse through his trousers, making the blonde gasp and force out a cough to cover the fact that he was blushing profusely. He had gotten his own petty revenge when Harry had asked him for some help unloading a stack of crates in his arms. As he had leaned over and snatched one of the crates, he leaned over as though murmuring in Harry's ear when really; he'd teased the brunette's earlobe with his teeth before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheeks. Harry had blushed unbearably and disappeared from the shop floor for half an hour. Thankfully no one caught onto it.

However, now it would appear that said cause for Draco's own happiness was suffering and there didn't seem to be anything he could readily do to help him.

He wished desperately that he could bring that teasing light back to Harry's eyes, but he didn't know what he could do that wouldn't irritate the brunette man. He slid his hand across the table top and gently touched Harry's fingertips with his own, smiling weakly in the candlelight. It took a few light touches before Harry's own twitched in response, and leaned over a little so that they would link their fingertips together. It made Draco's chest ache painfully, so painfully it almost hurt him to breathe properly without the threat of tears, that this was the most willing Harry had been able to touch him in a fortnight. They hadn't made love, not properly, for just over a month. Whenever they did, Harry made sure that it was over with quickly and didn't seem 'all there' during, which really put Draco off from enjoying the experience. He wanted to be 'one' with Harry; mind, body and soul. All Harry was giving him at the moment was his body, and sometimes it was rarely even that. They used to wake up every morning a tangle of limbs splashed golden in the sunlight filtering in through the blinds, their hair messed up and their hips pressed into one another's so tightly that neither of them were willing to disentangle themselves from the sweet, sweaty mess of limbs. Now it was like there was a schism between them, growing larger by the day. They now almost always slept on opposite ends of the bed, but it wasn't for Draco's lack of trying. Sometimes he would pretend to sleep until Harry eventually fell unconscious, before he would shuffle his body over the warm sheets and curl up against the tanned man's body. He'd press his nose into Harry's neck, the hairs on the nape of his neck tickling his mouth, as he pulled the younger man back against him, cradling him through the night.

Unbeknown to Draco, Harry did wake up far earlier then he wanted to. He didn't instantly leap out of Draco's arms like he felt he should do, but instead he would simply lie there in the warm sheets, their legs tangled like they'd used to be after making sweet, sensual love all night long, and traced gentle patterns along the fine blonde hairs over Draco's forearm. The blonde would shiver and hold him closer and for a brief moment, Harry closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel loved and adored before the dark mood settled in his mind and he slipped out of the warmth of their bed and forced himself about his daily routine.

~0~

It was the middle of July things still hadn't improved too greatly between Harry and Draco. Their business still flourished and they got a lot of people coming in every day for top-ups of to see if Harry would sign an autograph for a young child, but due to his hectic work schedule, which Draco was starting to think was more self-imposed than Harry let on, wouldn't allow him to be at the shop too often. The only downside to whatever was bothering Harry was that it was beginning to show to those who were often around them, like Draco's parents and Severus. They had been discreet about it, asking Draco when Harry wasn't in the immediate vicinity on one of their trips into Paris from an afternoon away from the apothecary and work. For his part, Draco didn't have much on the tale to tell, however what he did say seemed to have caused a frown to appear on Severus' usually expressionless face. This worried him a great deal but he pushed it to the back of his mind.

The long weekend at his parents Manor was a nice change of pace from the hurly burly world of running the apothecary and Harry disappearing to work as soon as he could get away from their apartment. It was refreshing to be able to sleep peacefully beside a large fire, whether it was a light or not. He did miss the fact that he couldn't sleep beside Harry's warm body, although he wasn't sure what he missed more; sleeping beside Harry or how he used to be at night sleeping with Harry. In truth the memory was a lot more appealing than their current reality but he never voiced it aloud. He didn't mind having all the space to roll around in but he had grown accustomed to reach out and lightly touch his hand along Harry's, who would entwined their fingers lazily in his sleep. Those moments made Draco's eyes tear up. The fact that, even in his subconscious, Harry_ wanted_ to touch him, and hold him and caress him must mean something surely? He really hoped that it did.

He didn't know how Harry faired having his own bed to himself for a couple of days. Harry seemed almost reluctant to talk about most things, such a drastic contrast to how he had been even a year ago. Draco couldn't help but think that maybe it was something that he had done unintentionally, that had angered the brunette. He couldn't think of anything that wouldn't have been settled after a small disagreement. He wished he could go and talk to him, despite it being almost one o'clock in the morning. He had too much on his mind and he really just wanted to have Harry's beautiful voice lull his nerves into a sleep state so that he wouldn't feel too stressed. He rung his hands around the end of his cotton sheet –something he'd cherished no matter how small it was, since that month he'd first met the younger man. He sighed and flopped back down on his pillows, glaring up at the canopy of his bed and closed his eyes closed a couple of times, trying to even out his breathing and ignore the throbbing in his chest.

He wanted to go and see his companion? Lover? Whatever he was, Draco wanted to see him and make sure he was alright. He huffed at the irony.

As he lifted himself over to the edge of his bed he couldn't help but feel nervous, his muscles tensing and beginning to dampen with sweat. He flexed his fingers and stared down at his bare knees as they peeked out from underneath his nightshirt. He was really worried about getting caught wondering around at such an early hour, toward Harry's bedchamber no less. It wasn't as though he was in his twenties again, he was nearing his forties and he needed to watch himself around his parents. Severus was alright, the man tolerated more than he let on, but Draco didn't want to encourage a lecture from the older man, especially concerning the misplaced rumours that had first circulated when he and Harry had not only gone into business together, but opted to share an apartment together. To anyone who asked, they lied and said that there was more than enough room for two people to live side-by-side comfortably without invading on one another's space. In reality, they simply used the smaller bedroom for extra storage.

It had been on one of overly busy days at the shop and Draco had been left to his own devices to help everyone as Harry had been called out to an emergency in the hospital of an auror having gotten attacked. He'd dashed out as quickly as possible with only a chaste kiss to the lips as Draco watched his lover disappear out of the door. He only spoke throughout the rest of the day when dealing with customers. There had been a bunch of people putting down their names and payments for the new ointment that would help men grow their facial hair out. It had been increasingly popular as a cosmetic sort of treatment, however Harry's report on the psychological aspects could greatly improve the mental stability of most men suffering from low self-esteem and fewer lives would be lost due to depression. As soon as that exert alone had been printed in the local newspaper many women flocked to Brittany to pre-order the ointment that would be available right before the Christmas holidays.

It was on this evening when Draco had been faced with shutting up the shop on his own and had looked forward to eating some cold cuts –another thing Harry had gotten him into –and then collapsing into bed. He hadn't been expecting to open the door to their apartment and find a fat candle perched on almost every available flat service, flickering in the cool October breeze that drifted in through a crack under the windowpane. His mouth had hung open in surprise, something he never would have dared to do if his father had been in the vicinity, and gaped at the room that was bathed in the golden light. Harry stood there in absolutely nothing. He was stark naked, with soft shadows rolling over his stomach and chest muscles. He'd felt his knees go weak beneath him as he drank in every inch of his handsome lover. "Harry," he breathed in awe, "What are you up to?" he couldn't help the smile that teased at his lips, his breathing coming out in short, rasping spurts.

Without saying a word the younger man shifted down onto one knee and pulled out a little box from the pocket in his trousers. Draco felt everything inside him tighten up. His body flushed with heat and his stomach flipped uncontrollably as he watched the lid of the box slide back to reveal a little gold ring. It was so hot all of a sudden that breathing was becoming almost too difficult. He clenched his fingers into fists and drew in long shuddering breaths to calm his racing heartbeat. "Draco," Harry smiled softly, his green eyes glimmering in the candlelight, "I have rehearsed this so many times in the last few weeks but nothing ever seemed good enough to say to you. So all I can do is ask; will you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, do me the honour of being my husband? To let me love you and hold you and accept every last inch of you the way that you have done with me? I know we cannot be the conventional marital couple, but even if it's in the privacy of our own home, I want you to be my husband, I want you to be mine and no one else's. I want you to love me as much as I love you. This ring is as close to married as either one can get. I want you to be mine. Every last breath in your body, I want to be mine and I, yours. Let me love you. Let us be as married as we can be and live as happily as we have been."

Draco wasn't aware that he was crying until a choked sob sounded out through his mouth. He sobbed and choked and cupped his hands over his mouth because every emotion possible came flooding to his head. Of all things, he didn't think Harry would ever do such a thing, especially if anyone were to find either of the rings. The risks were too great, the catastrophe it would cause would force them both into exile, or even a prison, and they would lose everything they'd worked so hard to get. He knew it all, it took a while to sink in, but he did. And yet –when he looked into Harry's gleaming green eyes, his toned naked body, and that simple band of pure gold lying in a velvet box, he couldn't help but feel every part of him go weak, almost as though he was suddenly floating in the air. Wiping roughly at his face he dropped himself onto his knees in front of Harry, his cane clattering to the floor as he cupped Harry's face in his hands and started pressing warm, wet kissed against his lips, brow and cheeks and nipping at his throat and mouth. "I'll be your husband Harry! I will, I will, I will!" he gushed through wet sobs as he pressed himself against Harry, their arms snaking around one another and clinging to one another as much as they could. He pulled away, his head dropping down against Harry's shoulder, "W-what am I supposed to do? I can't wear it around all day. Mother would get suspicious."

Harry chuckled lightly and then slipped his hand under the velvet of the ring, and drew out a gold chain with the ring looped on it, "You can wear it around your neck. I know this may seem mad but I just wanted to show you just how much I love you. Sometimes I get worried that one day 'something' may happen and you wouldn't know just how much I do love you." Draco felt his eyes drop and then felt Harry hook a finger underneath his chin and tilt it up, "I promise that I will love you and care for you for as long as either of us shall live."

Draco sniffed and ran a hand down his tear stained cheeks, a choking sob brewing up in his chest again. "Does … Does this mean your my 'wife'?" he teased with a cheeky grin, earning a flick on his ear. They chuckled together for a moment before Harry slipped the ring off the chain and, taking Draco's left hand in his own, he slipped the ring on. Draco stared down at the band, his heart beating in his chest. He was transfixed on how beautiful something so simply could be. He looked up at Harry nervously and licked his lips, "Let me show you how much I love you, Harry," he breathed, leaning in for another soft kiss, his cool hands running up the length of the tanned naked thighs before him, his mouth pressing tenderly to Harry's and his thumbs brushing along the coarse hair between his legs.

That night they had made slow, tender love on the apartment floor and Draco's clothes tossed carefully to a corner where there were no candles burning. Draco could still remember how it had felt having their bodies pressed together, himself buried inside Harry and the younger man rocking beautifully underneath him, his head thrown back in ecstasy as Draco made love to him.

He sighed, a ringing starting up in his ears from nowhere, and winced as the cool band around his ring finger swiped across his nose. He lowered his hand and glanced down at the plain gold band gleaming in the low light of his room. He'd been given it about four years ago, when Harry was finally comfortable with their relationship to go out and buy two plain gold bands and a pair of gold chains. The memory of that day was always fresh in his mind whenever he drew the ring off the chain around his neck and slipped it onto his finger so he could feel it imprint in his skin whilst he slept. It was too much of a risk for either of them to wear their rings out publically. It would raise too much suspicion especially when there would be no woman present around either of them long enough to even be considered their better half. He pressed his lips to the ring and then ran his forefinger over the precious metal. He needed to see Harry, he needed to talk to him and see if he was alright. He knew the younger man hadn't been sleeping a lot lately, late nights and early mornings weren't a good combination especially over a long period of time.

He drew a deep breath and then stood up to walk out of his room.

Harry wasn't asleep but rather, he was reading by the light of an oil-lamp on the bedside table, his body propped up on a small mountain of pillows. When his door clicked open and Draco slipped in as quietly as possible, the younger man lazily drew his eyes away from his reading material to look up at his 'husband'. He frowned heavily, since it was rare that Draco would be the one to sneak out of his bedchamber to his. "Draco? What are you doing up so late? I thought you were already asleep."

Draco shook his head, hesitating briefly, before edging his way over to the armchair that was bedside Harry's bed. With the way their relationship had been going lately he didn't think it would be wise for him to slip into the bed like he desperately wanted to. He gave his own disapproving frown at Harry and nodded towards the oil lamp and the book in his lap, "You need to sleep at night, Harry. You've been running yourself ragged for weeks and I'm scared that you're doing yourself more harm than good." He sank down into the armchair and pressed his back into the soft cushioned back, his hooded eyes peering over at the dark haired man.

Harry snorted in the back of his throat but he had the decency to close the book, his thumb hooked in the page he'd stopped at. He leaned his head back against the pillows and focused his gaze on the blonde. "What are you doing here, Draco?" he breathed softly, no conviction present in his voice.

Grey eyes met green and two hearts hammered in separate chest. "I'm worried about you, Harry." There. He'd done it. He'd admitted at least the tip of his iceberg of worry. It was a pathetic excuse of all that he could have said but couldn't find the energy to say it. He clenched his fingers around the ends of the chairs arms. He dropped his gaze to the floor, not bearing to look into the eyes of the man who had all but vocally rejected him. "I don't think you should work for a while. I think you should stay home and relax for a little while, maybe run the shop with me. You have an assistant; they could take care of things for a couple of weeks or so."

"Draco you know it doesn't work like that," Harry sighed in an exasperated manner, "I can't just hand over an entire hospital to someone."

"Why not?" Draco countered softly, picking at a frayed thread on the armchair, "You're the head healer; just tell them you're cashing in your time for a holiday, a break. You deserve it more than anyone."

"People's lives would be at stake and I wouldn't be able to relax properly knowing that I could have been the cause of that."

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes as he continued to stare down at the faded cushioned cover of the armchair. His throat was drying up and he could see Harry was going to argue against almost everything he could possibly say that would ensure Harry would be closer to him and further away from the hospital. He didn't want this, the constant fighting, the arguing the lack of understanding on Harry's part. It wasn't what had drawn him to the brunette in the first place. He understood that patients came first, but sometimes personal life needed to come first. "You can't save everyone, Harry," he muttered gently, so low that he wasn't entirely sure that the stubborn younger man had heard, but he decided that it didn't matter. Not at two o'clock in the morning at the very least. With a deep breath, he forced himself out of the armchair and made his way across the room to the door. He forced the handle down and opened it and he_ wanted_ to look back –dear Merlin he wanted to look back at the man he'd loved with all his heart –but he couldn't. He felt nothing but disgust at the rejection that was now slathered over him like bile. Instead of looking back around, he simply carried on through the door, along the winding corridors and back to his own bedchamber. He knew Harry wasn't going to bother himself with removing himself from his bed and hurrying after him, but that didn't mean that his chest didn't ache as he unconsciously stayed up for another hour and a half, curled around a plump pillow and slow hot tears running down his cheeks.

He knew it shouldn't have bothered him so much but he couldn't help it. He hated waking up alone without Harry curled around him, but he especially loathed it when they went to bed fighting. He hated going to bed angry because it would sit there, in the back of his mind and slowly spread like a poison through his body whilst he slept.

Little did he know, that's exactly what was happening to Harry. Every. Single. Night.

If anyone noticed just how withdrawn and tired both Harry and Draco looked the following morning, nobody made a show of commenting or even noticing it as they all settled down in the garden for a bright summer morning breakfast with Narcissa and Severus. Lucius had been called away earlier for a meeting with the French politicians of the wizarding community. Not that anyone minded too much. As shrewd as his mother could be, Narcissa knew when to bring up the heavy topics and as she had long since given up on getting her own son married off to a nice young heiress, not many of the other subjects should have made them tense up. However, it appeared that they had gotten to the stage in their tense relationship that _any_ topic brought up between them was enough to make them tense up. "So, Draco, Harry, Severus was telling me this morning about how he had recently bought a new house by the Lake District and has invited us along for two weeks in August. Isn't that lovely?" she beamed at the both of them, their haggard appearances not registering in her mind as she waited for a response.

Draco ignored the question, after having the discussion with Harry the previous night he wasn't up for discussing _anything_ about time away with one another. He stabbed at his fruit and ripped it off his fork with his teeth. He didn't even look up at Harry sitting across from him. He couldn't. He was scared that if he did, his heart would stop in his chest and break. Harry was the one who spoke up in answer to Narcissa, "Unfortunately, I don't think I will be able to make it. August it an active time for children and there seems to be more crimes. I have a feeling that I'd be stuck in at the hospital all month."

Draco snorted as he took a sip of his pumpkin juice. Narcissa seemed to ignore him but Severus had been scrutinizing the both of them since Friday night when they had both arrived. He knew that something was going on between them, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to get to the bottom of it. He cleared his throat and in his usual lazy drawl, addressed Harry. "Forgive me, Harry, but August is rarely the time for such things. Usually such madness occurs in October but rarely earlier. I'm sure you can spare a week or two to relax and decompress your mind. I know I needed some time to myself. You look as though you're about to faint. You clearly haven't been resting and by the looks of it Draco could be on the verge of an illness very soon," his words may have been slow and drawn out on purpose, but the gasp and widening of Narcissa's eyes happened instantly.

"Oh, then that settles the matter!" she exclaimed as she reached out to grasp Harry's end, "The hospital will survive without you for a fortnight, Harry. If Draco is ill it may be because of the pressure on his mind. You taught me that stress can weaken the psyche and make it so that some people are easier to succumb to illnesses! You are both coming to Severus' house with me and Lucius and that settles matters. Severus," she turned her attention to her friend, "I'm sure you can find some competent to help out whilst Harry is away, can you not?"

Severus inclined his head, a smirk itching to crawl onto his lips, "Naturally. I'm sure there are a few healers below Harry he would do an excellent job but I can send a friend of mine in to oversee things if your concern is truly that great." His cool dark eyes dared Harry to challenge him. He knew that the young man wouldn't be able to find anything to argue with, and it was present in his manner when he simply inclined his head before hunching over his bowl of yoghurt and fruit. Severus spared a look at Draco and inclined his head over his glass of pumpkin juice. Draco offered him the weakest of smiles that his tired features could offer and Severus accepted it. There was no doubt about it that something had occurred between the two younger men and he was determined to get to the bottom of it, even if did mean getting Harry to see some sense that he was working too much over taking care of himself and of Draco.

He confronted Draco later that afternoon right after they'd all accompanied Narcissa outside once again for a two hour long lunch, talking mindlessly about the latest things that had been reported in the news, how Lucius had to travel to London, of all places, in September but how excited she was that she would get to breathe some different air for a time. They'd all nodded along as she more or less chatted to herself, before they all went their separate ways inside the manor. It was back in the drawing room where Draco was spending his time reading up on the latest medical journals; he enjoyed the reading even though the voice in his head was nowhere as nice as when Harry had read to him all those years ago. He used to have such passion in his voice but recently he had lacked everything that made him 'Harry' or even human for that matter. He had his finger pressed underneath his bottom lip, his brow furrowed in concentration as he read the words before him, soaking only half of it in, when the door creaked open and slammed shut behind his godfather's presence. "Draco may I have a word with you?" he asked curtly, striding over and seating himself across the hearth in an identical armchair. He crossed one leg over the other and steeped his fingers before him, elbows propped up on the arms.

Draco nodded his head as he slipped a leather bookmark in between the pages and placed the book to one side. "What is it Severus? You seem quite agitated."

"And you haven't been sleeping. Harry definitely hasn't, for quite a long time I believe. I want to know what the problem is. Have you two been fighting with one another?"

Draco snorted and looked away, "To be perfectly honest, Severus, I would prefer it if we were arguing. As it stands we barely say two words to one another and it's infuriating me. He leaves first thing in the morning and gets home later and later every night. He only came home earlier than usual one night last month. And that wasn't until ten o'clock. Any later and he would have been on the last train home."

Severus leaned back in his chair and frowned, "How long has this been going on?" he asked in a controlled voice his eyes unwavering from the younger man.

Draco pursed his lips together in thought. How long had it been going on? He wasn't too sure because at first it had only been a couple of nights a week and he could easily brush that to the back of his mind, or simply explain it away, as Harry had done. When he first did notice it, it was virtually too late anyway. By that point Harry only came home 'early' on two nights a week. Not too long after that it had gotten later and later until he just didn't bother coming home until Draco was asleep. It had gotten rather lonely; falling asleep alone before Harry got home and waking up alone when Harry had scurried off to work, earlier and earlier every morning until Draco calculated that he only got around four hours of sleep at night. Did he take nap breaks at the hospital? He must have done, otherwise by any logical means he would have had a breakdown by now. Clearing his throat he mumbled, "A couple of months, I think."

"A couple of _months_?" Severus spat out, making Draco flinch at the rage smothered in his voice. "It's no wonder either of you are looking as though you're suffering an illness. You both look like you haven't eaten or slept properly in weeks." He sighed and ground his teeth together, "I am not taking no for an answer from either of you two. A couple of weeks away are going to do you both a world of good. And at least I will be there to make sure that you are both eating and sleeping properly. Now, before tonight, I want you to write down a list of all of the things that you both haven't been doing in the last couple of months. I mean everything, even if it makes you feel guilty, like skipping out on your potions one evening just because you felt rebellious. I need you to do it for Harry as well because somehow I don't believe he would be honest with me right now."

"Why do you say that?" Draco asked with a frown.

Severus pursed his lips, as though he were debating on whether to tell Draco his suspicions but decided that he may as well be truthful, or at least partially truthful. "I have a suspicion as to what might be afflicting Harry, and I have to say that if you don't watch yourself, Draco, you could very easily see yourself going the same way."

Draco felt dread knot in his chest. "So," he choked out in a strangled voice, "A list of what Harry and I have not been doing a lot of recently?"

Severus narrowed his eyes a fraction but inclined his head, "Yes, I want to know about everything. Anything that springs to mind that hasn't been happening recently. Also, I want you to tell me that last time you felt 'happy'. Even remotely happy, can you do that for me?" Draco nodded his head, feeling his entire body tense up when his godfather's cool, bottomless eyes turned on him. "I will be asking Harry to do the same. I don't expect him to be truthful on the matter if my suspicions are correct, but I would like both points of view to compare notes and determine how I can help the both of you. Sometimes you need a third person perspective on things, a fresh pair of eyes, to make sure that I understand all that I can and how I can help."

Draco curled his sweating fingers into fists and felt his legs jittering under his tense arms as he tried to find the words to thank his godfather for his intervention. He honestly had been feeling so lost recently that he was glad that he had someone to talk to, even if it was his godfather and he felt like a petulant child getting a telling off for something that wasn't his fault. But, he reasoned, he was a grown man and he would approach the issue as a grown man should. "Thank you Severus," he finally managed to get out in a stronger voice, much stronger than how he felt physically. "I've needed someone to talk and I think I can say without a shadow of a doubt, that you've come in at the perfect time."

Severus inclined his head, "I can only watch so many people suffer in silence before my conscience creeps back in, Draco. Besides, you and Harry are two of the closest things I've ever had to sons. I want you both to feel like, if something has happened, you can at least turn to me for advice. I've had forty-five years in training for it."

With a small smirk on his lips, the greasy haired man stood up from his armchair and made towards the door of the drawing room. When he got to it, however, he turned back to fasten the young blonde with a fierce glare, "And Draco, when I said everything you haven't done, or felt, I do mean everything." At the blank expression on his face he hitched a dark eyebrow and said it a little more plainly, "I know."

With that he was gone.

Later that evening, locked away in his bedchamber and after pacing back and forth about how detailed he needed to make the list for Severus, the man's words had echoed in his head, making his heart race and his mind run blank with explanations, despite his godfather being pretty clear on things. He knew, there was no doubt about it. Although if it did have to be anyone of his social circle to find out, he was glad that it was Severus. The man had been alone almost all his life, he surely must know what it was like when you found someone to love and who loved you back? Or at the very least, what you'd considered love at one point and was now just a happy memory locked away in the back of his mind. He threw a glare down at the parchment and quill lying on his desk. He'd touched them, various ink splotches were proof of that, but he had yet to write down the things that had been bothering him about Harry. All the other things were scribbled down, it wasn't too difficult. Except for Harry –Harry made everything difficult.

With a sigh he dropped him down into his desk chair and clawed his hands through his usually immaculate hair. He didn't want to wake up tomorrow morning because if he woke up, cold and alone, he would then have to suffer the arduous journey of travelling back to Brittany with Harry excusing himself to brew potions that didn't need restocking, or rushing off the hospital despite him having a long weekend holiday marked off in the registry. All he wanted was for the man to love him again, was that really such a terrible thing? They'd been happy up until recently, hadn't they? Or was he just deluding himself? With a dry sniff, he reached for his quill and made another bullet point on the page, watching as the tiny drop expanded out into the grain. He let his hand go through the motions of the letters, watching the ink crawl and curve along the page.

_1. Very few hot meals eaten in the last three months, most of them I've eaten on my own as Harry is never home to eat them with me. Usually we share meals in the morning before work and for dinner when he gets home. If he's running late, it's not a bother, but recently I've eaten almost all meals alone._

_2. He leaves in the morning at around five o'clock and does not get home until around eleven o'clock, falling asleep straight away_

_3. We rarely have any time to talk to one another so I honestly wouldn't be able to tell you if something were bothering him. I would be judging by his careless physical appearance in that regard._

The list went on with other similar things and just after Draco had written about the last time he had been happy in –even remotely happy –down at the very bottom of the parchment, he went back up to the bullet points, the nib of his quill hovering in his quaking hand before he finally wrote down what he could never voice out loud.

_20. Kisses, touching, and sex; we haven't been intimate with one another for almost four months. Not even holding one another's hand whilst the other is conscious. It's like we're two strangers sleeping in the same bed._

_There_, he thought as he stared down at the words, _let me be damned_.

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><p><strong>AN: I haven't written Present Part 2 yet, but it's in the works, so I thought I'd update with this. I know it's really angsty, but believe me when I say I am preparing you for the worst.**


	4. PRESENT Part 2

Rating: M

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter.

Disclaimer: France, 1852. Harry Potter is the apprentice to Head Healer Snape in Calais, and is taken on a weekend to Paris to attract potential clients. During that weekend he meets aristocrat Draco Malfoy, suffering from consumption. Ten years later Harry suffers his worst nightmare of a very ill Draco disappearing over the side of boat. Should he listen to his heart and go in and rescue his lover? Or should he simply let his suffering end at the bottom of the river? Either way he may have to go into the deep to find the answers. This tale faces the hardships of Stockholm Syndrome, severe depression, and a battered tormented love buried deep inside.

I do not own Harry Potter.

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><p><span><strong>Into the Deep<strong>

**PRESENT**

**Part 2**

_'They did it',_ Harry mentally grumbled as he tightened his folded arms across his chest and glared out over the balcony of Severus' new summer house settled in the Lake District. He didn't know how Severus had managed to do it behind his back, but before he knew it, it had been entered into the registry that Harry had the first two weeks of August off on holiday leave and it was non-negotiable. Suffice to say he was not happy when he'd had to pack his trunk and join Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius on a train to the Lake District in the blazing heat of the August sunshine. He barely spoke at all the entire journey up there, not feeling the need to participate since he was already in such a horrible mood. As soon as they'd been allowed to go about their own way in the summer house, Harry had offered to take his trunk upstairs along with Draco's and instead of leaving after he'd finished, he pulled a chair out onto the small balcony that overlooked one shore of the lake and slumped down into it. The sun burned his eyes and his skin and the buzzing of the insects magnified in his ears and everything seemed to warp in his vision. He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples and squeezed his eyes shut tightly until all he could hear was the rush of his own blood.

He didn't want to be around anyone, not after last month and what Severus had made him write down. According to the greasy haired man he was suffering from a severe form of depression and at that Harry had snapped and thrown the man out of his bedchamber and spent the rest of the night trying to diagnose himself and trying not to be biased. A voice in the back of his mind told him how much that he failed at that one simple task, but he ignored it and decided that with a little extra sleep, he'd be perfectly fine and back to normal. If only he could get to sleep, then he'd be all set. He had no idea where Draco and the others were and it wasn't like he even cared anyway, or would seek his 'husband' out to talk to him. He didn't feel like he could talk to the blonde anymore, but he didn't know why. He couldn't pinpoint a moment where it had all gotten so hard for them to live together.

They'd been dragged all the way up here on the pretence of relaxing and to watch the boating festival on the 29th of August. He was pretty sure that Severus didn't care about the boats either but he refrained from saying so. It wasn't really his business. And he had to admit it did feel cooler near the lack than in the thickly packed streets of Paris and in the suffocating corridors of the hospital. Not that he'd really been going there until midday most days anyway. He felt as though he didn't have the courage once he'd stepped off the train every morning. He always went across the road from the station to a low rent bar and drank a couple of rounds of gin or whiskey and drown the throbbing in his head. He sighed through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly to waken him up a little more. Sometimes, when he was in the bar, the barmaid –Hermione –would lend a tentative ear and offered her opinions but sometimes he didn't even want to hear that. Sometimes he simply wanted to drink. He'd gotten quite drunk on the Sunday night when they'd returned from vising Draco's parents and Severus' little revelation that he knew about his and Draco's sordid little love affair –not that is was benefiting them at the moment. It didn't take too long for Severus to diagnose him with depression and had offered some therapy and some mood balancing potions, something Harry had been avoiding like the plague. He knew Draco had packed them in his own trunk but he still wasn't taking them. He'd take them into the bathroom and tip it down the sink and rinse it away.

Draco's health had been taken out of his hands and he'd been placed into Severus' care for the time being. The healer had said that it was impossible to guarantee Draco's continued good health when his own healer was incapable of looking after himself. Harry had ground his teeth at that comment but hadn't put up a fight, simply handing over Draco's medical records that he kept a cop of at home, and left it at that. If Draco agreed to it then who was he to object? He just knew that he –personally –was not ill and he was sick and tired of everyone treating him like he was. He missed being at the hospital and dealing with incessant patients and incompetent nursing staff because he kept him busy and by the end of the day he was so exhausted he didn't have the energy to do anything, not even indulge the nightmares that hounded him through every shadow. He cracked his neck muscles, trying not to think about the nightmares. That definitely wouldn't do him any good at that moment. Maybe he would take some dreamless sleep and have a little nap, perhaps? Just to shut Severus up and give his mind a few blissful hours of emptiness.

He forced himself up from the wicker chair, his muscles stiff and sore from being sat in the same position for almost two hours, and went to the small drawer in one of the cupboard in his bedchamber. The small phials glinted in the sunlight that was pouring in through the balcony windows and he sighed as he uncorked one and shuffled over to the bed with it clutched between his fingers. The mattress sank underneath him and he raised the glass to his lips and tipped the contents back, the bitter taste hitting his taste buds sharply. Wincing and sucking on his tongue, he tossed the phial carelessly to one side and shifted down to lay on his side, watching the lake glitter in the afternoon sunlight through the balcony before his mind started to cloud over and he succumbed himself to sleep.

Three hours later he was forced back into the world of reality by dry hands sharply smacking him across the face and a deafening scream vibrating through his skull. It wasn't until he was more awake did he realise that the screaming was coming from him. After one final slap he felt the scream die in his throat and slowly began to feel the rest of his body awaken. He was drenched in his own sweat and the sky was darkening outside. He felt his body spasm as he rolled over the edge of the bed and dry heaved. His neck muscles strained and he could feel the evening breeze chill the sweat over his body. Nothing came up his throat, despite the burning sensation, and he felt a hot hand pounding his back until he'd stopped gagging on his own saliva and curled up onto his side, tucking his throbbing head between his arms. He swallowed and tried to get his breathing steady again. He swallowed and tried to get his breathing steady again. "Harry what the hell is going on?" Severus snapped as he whipped away from the bed and bent low beside the balcony door and picked up the discarded phial. "You took dreamless sleep?" he asked as he sniffed the empty phial. His dark eyes fastened on Harry slumped over in the bed on his side, his skin waxy and his eyes red and bloodshot. "You stupid fool!" he spat out, throwing the phial out of the window. "I told you to get some proper rest, not delude your body! That potion will only make you worse! You need natural sleep you moron! I can't believe I even trained you up to be a healer when you can't even see that you're endangering yourself and all the patients in your care!" He was snarling now but he didn't care. The satisfaction he was getting from seeing the younger man flinch and cower at his words was only too gratifying. He strode over and loomed over the shattered man before him and sneered, "And what about Draco, Potter?" he spat out, "Do you regard him so lowly that you would rather kill him than admit to yourself and to me, that you're not well?"

"It wouldn't be the first time I've nearly killed him," Harry rasped as he curled even tighter into himself, his knees drawn to his chest, his bare feet damp and cold.

Severus stopped from his pacing in front of the young man and whirled around to face him, dark eyes like bottomless pits burning with fury. If Harry had had any more energy he would have flinched. As it stood he could just about focus on his breathing and murmuring a little. That alone was exhausting him already but if Severus wanted answers then he'd give the man some damned answers. "What do you mean?" Severus asked as he drew the chair away from the balcony, shut the doors against the night sky, and seated himself at the head of the bed, leaning back so he could analyse the young man before him.

Harry let his eyes drift shut for a moment before opening them again. Everything felt so heavy and he didn't want to focus on the nightmares. He didn't even want to share them with Severus even if it did mean he might get some proper rest. He wanted to shake his head but he couldn't even do that. Should he tell Severus about the reasons why he didn't want to sleep? Or the reasons why he would wait until he was exhausted to the bone before dragging himself home to bed? Could he really reveal how messed up he was in his mind that his old teacher might even section him for some new experiment on the demons of his own psyche? He didn't know how he would cope if that happened. He didn't know how he would cope if that happened. And what about Draco? What. About. Draco? What was he doing risking Draco's health and everyone's else's something was clearly playing on his mind. He sighed and rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling his eyes raw and shining with a dampness. "I have been having nightmares that are making me not want to go to sleep. Since I've been working longer hours they sort of crept up on me and now … I can't sleep without seeing them play out in my eyes."

Severus frowned a little and hummed low in his throat, "You should have come to me before when Dreamless Sleep would have benefited you. As it stands, taking it now would only be making your situation worse. I know depression isn't easy to deal with Harry but –"

"Please don't say that!" Harry gasped out as he squeezed his eyes shut, "I don't want to be categorized like that! I can't have depression, Severus. If I do then that just means I've been hurting more people than saving them!"

Severus inclined his head, "I know that it isn't easy, Harry. And yes, in some cases you may have done more harm than good but as far as I've seen in your records –yes, I've been checking up on you –but so far the only thing that has happened that may come back to haunt you is that you used scourgify on a couple of beds giving a large number of patients a rash, that you then later helped to cure with a strong dosage of your salve so … No, somehow you've managed to stay on top of most things. How you're managing that I'm not sure, but I think you're going to snap soon Harry. I don't know when, and I don't know how. But it will be soon, and you need to be careful. That's why I wanted you to come here for the two weeks. I want you to talk to me, or Draco, or someone. Come to me and talk if you're feeling scared, because I can see it in your eyes, Harry. I know you're scared." He leaned forward in his chair and bore his eyes into Harry, "Let me help you, Harry. I've been helping Draco and he's working through some things. Your negligence of his affections and even simply his attention and general conversation almost tipped him over the edge into depression, but I managed to get to him in time."

"Lucky Draco," Harry rasped, still staring up at the ceiling, his jaw clenching a little at the mention of the blonde man.

"Don't be bitter," Severus snapped and watched as Harry twitched on the bed, his breathing easing into a normal rhythm. "All I am trying to point out is that a lot of your current problems could have been avoided if you had sought help. There's no weakness in asking for help, you know? Even I have asked for help on many occasions. Lucius often asks for my opinion on new deals he could make and how to go about some situations in politics, and even thought politics isn't my forte I manage to give him some insight."

Harry wished he had the energy to roll his eyes. "I don't want to talk about my nightmares. If I have to relive them whilst I'm conscious then I don't know how I'm going to deal with it. I don't even think I can write them down for you. They hurt too much to even think about. They frighten me so much, that if I tell you, I'm afraid you'll judge me."

"At the rate you're going, I'm going to be judging you regardless, Harry," Severus stated blandly.

"If I tell you the reasons why I've been avoiding Draco to such great lengths you won't even think me human, Severus," Harry murmured darkly, his pupils dilating as sleep tickled at the recesses of his mind.

Severus gave a dry little chuckle, "Harry, you need to get those nightmares out of your head and voiced out. If not, how am I going to help you?"

Harry shook his head a fraction, not knowing the answer. What could he say? He knew it wasn't going to be that simple and he didn't know if he wanted to go through such lengths to get him anywhere relatively close to how he was last year, "Do you mind if I try and sleep on it Severus?" he muttered softly, "Let me think about it."

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Harry, you cannot leave it too much longer to make a decision. Your health and your life are hanging in the balance here."

Harry nodded to indicate that he knew it only too well. Seeing that he had hit a brick wall, Severus stood up from the chair and waved his wand to light the two candles on Harry's bedside table. He looked down at the gaunt young man in the bed and felt his own heart clench. Just as he was turning away to leave the room and go down to dinner with Narcissa and Lucius, Harry reached out and snatched at his fingers. He turned around and arched an eyebrow down at the beaten down young man. With broken green eyes Harry looked up at him and with quaking muscles and rasped out, "Make sure that Draco's okay," he pleaded with his eyes and as well as his words, "Please, Severus. Make sure he's going to be okay. And tell him I … Tell him that I lo –" Why couldn't he say the words? He wanted the words out of his mouth but they wouldn't tumble out! He swallowed thickly and dropped his gaze and his hand clinging to Severus.

A firm hand grasped on Harry's shoulder and the warm weight was comforting in a strange sort of way, "I'll tell him, Harry. He does too, you know," he murmured softly before he released his grip on his protégées shoulder and then drifted out of the room.

With those soft, hushed words Harry felt himself drift off into a heavy slumber.

~0~

Despite Severus' words Harry didn't feel any better. He slept a little more than he had been and he was able to keep the older man's suspicions at bay for the most part. He forced himself to eat a little more despite how sickly he felt afterwards and he refused to go near any alcohol, even at dinner. He had been shaking with nerves and withdrawal for the first couple of days, but with nothing else to focus on except his own health. Severus for his part was making sure that Draco and Harry were spending as much time together without seeming too suspicious. At first Harry had simply thought it was coincidence, but the more time he spent with Draco the more the nightmares cropped up to the surface. Sometimes it simply got too much and he would run up to his bedchamber and lock the door behind him. He'd shake and whimper and scream into his pillow until his head was throbbing with red hot pain that it made him slip completely into his nightmare. It was a never ending cycle.

It just so happened that one night, a particularly calm night, where he was up reading by candlelight and heard a timid knock at his door. "Come in," he called softly, not wanting to wake anyone up in in the floors below. Due to the silence of the night out there in the Lake District, sound carried far and wide and a little too clearly for Harry's liking, but he was only there for another eight days so he could deal with it. The door clicked open, the sound grating through the air. He was surprised to see Draco standing in the doorway, looking pale and sweaty and he edged into the room. Harry blinked and frowned through the dim glow of the candles. He should have anticipated the blonde as no one else would be wondering around the house at two o'clock in the morning. However he was more surprised at the fact that Draco looked far too skinny in his nightshirt, his cheeks gaunt and his hair lacking its usual lustre. If Draco looked that bad then Harry dreaded to think what he looked like. "Draco?" he frowned, "What are you doing up? Hasn't Severus gotten you on a strict schedule?"

Draco nodded his head and edged into the room and settled himself on the edge of Harry's bed, his head bowed to the floor and his knobbly knees poking out from the hem of his nightshirt, "He does but I don't think he'll miss me right now," he murmured as he peered up through his fringe at Harry, "Besides, I don't plan on staying too long." His voice had a tight edge to it, as though it was taking all of his self-restraint to keeping his voice steady. "I just came here to ask you something."

"I'm not going to do any of that if that's what you're after," the brunette growled darkly, a horrid shadow passing over his face.

Draco actually sneered up at him, both of their expressions dark and ugly. This wasn't going the way Draco had planned but he had to work with what he was given. "No, actually I'm too tired for any of that," he snipped as he linked and flexed his fingers together between his knees, "I came here to ask you if you would like to come on a boat ride with me?"

Harry blinked in surprise and hesitated a moment before licking his lips, "A boat ride?" he repeated, confusion lacing his words.

Draco inclined his head, the dark circles under his eyes looking like deep holes by candlelight, "Yes, I want us to go on a boat ride tomorrow afternoon. I want us to talk; about anything, nothing if you'd prefer, but I just want to spend some time with you, where you don't go running off like you're afraid to be near me."

'_If only you knew_,' Harry thought bitterly before dropping his gaze to his clenched fist on the arm of his wicker chair. He swallowed thickly and bit down on his tongue. "Do you mind if I think a little about it?" he rasped out. The idea of spending time with Draco both frightened him and made him nostalgic for the times where being with the blonde man was a task that surpassed everything else.

Draco shook his head with a heavy sigh, "I don't want you to sit around all night and think of an excuse." He peered up through his fringe, "I just want to spend some time with you. I haven't been sleeping well these past few months because of the late nights you've been pulling and I just want to spend time with you. I'm the _husband _after all, and I want to lay with my lover," the last word came out as a hushed whisper and seemed to caress Harry through the air.

"I know it hasn't seemed like it, but I have missed being with you," he murmured so softly he wasn't sure the blonde had heard him, "I don't know what is going on with me and I really wish I could fix it for you," he looked up to see that Draco's eyes were gleaming as much as his own. "I wish I could be good enough for you," he choked as his voice broke, his eyes so hot and exhausted from crying so much over the last few months that he shuddered and wrapped his arms tighter around himself.

Without another word Draco stood up from the bed and extended his pale hand to Harry, "Come over here." Harry wanted to object but instead slipped his hand into Draco's and felt himself gasp as a jolt that felt like lightning zipped up his arm and straight to the back of his skull. His eyes flickered open to drink Draco in for the first time in ages. He shuddered as Draco led him over to the bed, their eyes expressing more than their words ever could. Draco slipped in among the bed sheets and gently tugged Harry down beside him, nudged him over on his other side and draped the blankets back over them. Harry felt tense and awkward having spent so much time avoiding Draco's touch. He licked his lips and waited for the familiarity to creep back into their touch but it wasn't happening. He felt almost numb as Draco curled his arms around the younger man and rested his head back against the pillow. They lay that way for a while before Draco's soft voice murmured, "Just relax, Harry," his breath tickled at Harry's ear. It took a while but soon Harry felt the tug of sleep and he finally relaxed in Draco's arms, the nostalgic feelings giving way to a momentary contentment that felt so much like bliss, that he didn't realise he had slipped into his nightmare before it was too late.

_It would be so easy to do it now … To take that pillow in your hands … And gently lower it down …_

He didn't know when he had woken up or even when he shifted out of the bed, but when his mind dared to refocus he was sitting back in the wicker chair pulled right up to the head of the bed, curled his legs up to his chest and sat there breathing heavily against his fingertips as he watched Draco. He looked so beautiful lying on the pillow, his darkened blonde hair splayed out over the soft cotton pillow. His face looked a little sweaty from the heat, his golden lashes curling upward, and he looked a little weak where he hadn't really been eating too well.

'_That's your fault_!' the voice sneered in his head, '_You made the poor boy worry over nothing_!'

He blinked the voice aside and refocused his attention –providing he was awake of course –on the sleeping blonde, his arms curled underneath the pillow, his lips parted slightly as he breathed deeply. It really would be easy, he realised, to follow through with all those times he'd watched Draco sleep and had the dark thoughts, that he could simply lean over his sleeping body and grab the neglected pillow on the other side of the bed. He could stroke it in his hands as though it was made of fine Italian silk –knowing Severus and the Malfoy's it_ would_ be fine Italian silk –and ease his breathing before clutching the over-stuffed pillow in his hands. He could take the two steps to the bed and gently ease the pillow over Draco's face, so gently so as not to start him awake too soon. He could wait and enjoy the sensation of playing God –of having a life in the palm of his hand –and relish in it. Then, ever so slowly, he could apply pressure to the pillow, his hands sinking into its softness, and feel Draco's bone structure through the feathers. Draco would realise his air was seriously lacking and start to struggled when he realised the pressure of Harry sitting on his chest, but that was to be expected. Harry could envision the flailing limps, the muffled cries and the short, rapid breathing until finally, everything could become still and silent and frightening.

Harry knew that as soon as the silent screamed in his ears he wouldn't be able to lift the pillow; if he didn't lift the pillow then it wouldn't be real and he wouldn't have to face the reality of those cold, dead grey eyes and the look of fear etched permanently into Draco's alabaster features. He wouldn't want to live with that image engraved into his mind, but every night when he fell asleep the image would spring up through the blackness and he'd sweat and thrash about trying to bat it away out of sight, even in his own mind. It was becoming harder and harder with every passing night and he couldn't even use dreamless sleep since not only had it proven ineffective, but also because Severus had taken all the phials out on the rare occasion he had left his bedchamber.

He suddenly felt every muscle in his body shaking as he snapped back to reality and stared down at the pillow clutched tightly between his hands in his lap.

Feeling sick and shaken he tossed the pillow across the room and watched as it thumped weakly against the wall and slid down to the floor. His was hot and cold in equal measures, shaking and biting down so hard on his tongue to stop from screaming, that he could taste his own blood pooling around his teeth. He clawed his fingernails down the length of his face, hyperventilating between his palms and trying not to cry and scream out at the fear spiking in his heart. Draco was still alive; he was still breathing and shifting restlessly in the bed. He was fine, absolutely fine! The manic laugh that choked out of his throat almost scared him even more as the dark night sky outside lighting with the first amber kiss of dawn. He rubbed at his arms and legs, his fingers almost vibrating with the cold as he watched Draco from across the room. How could he even think about ridding the world of someone so beautiful? He shook his head and sneered at himself, digging his nails into his thighs and wincing as the blood seeped out and spotted the cream nightshirt. He'd have to get rid of it before anyone saw. He'd been so careful with his others, not clawing at himself through the fabric, but this time he had needed the pain, needed to feel something other than the dark numbness creeping into his mind and freezing his blood.

A shiver ran through him as Draco stirred and finally cracked his eyes open and frowned heavily as he focused on Harry in the wicker chair. "Harry?" he rasped, his voice slurred and thick from sleep, "Mmmm what time is it?"

"Early," Harry whispered, his voice carrying across the silent room. He couldn't keep the wetness out of his words.

Draco was clearly fighting the instinct to go back to sleep. He reached out a slack arm and twitched his fingers in Harry's direction, "Come back to bed," he hummed softly, his eyes struggling to stay open

. Harry hesitated for a moment, at which point Draco had slumped back on his pillows, peering up through scrunched up eyelids. Finally, Harry sighed and disentangled himself from the wicker chair, dread filling every step. The two paces between the bed and the chair seemed to warp and lengthen to ten times the original size. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. In almost no time at all he was pressing his knees down into the mattress and turning around so that he felt the sleepy heat of Draco's chest and stomach pressing against his back. He curled his knees up and felt hot tears slide down his cheeks as he nestled his head in the crook of Draco's arm. He didn't sleep for the rest of the early hours of the morning, too afraid of what might happen. Instead he listened to the echoing throb of his 'husbands' heartbeat.

'_Husband_' –he hadn't thought of Draco in that way for a very long time. The heavy shame that weighed down in his chest stayed with him until somewhere in the house the clock chimed eight o'clock in the morning.

He went through the morning routines after Draco slipped out of his bedchamber with a small smile over his shoulder as he went. Harry had simply stared after him blankly, not knowing how to move himself or how to react. He was numb and so tired that he felt like his brain had liquefied and ran out of his ear. He filled his basin with tepid water and stripped down, tossing the nightshirt into the wicker hamper and burying it down with his other dirty shirts and undergarments. He slowly washed his entire body, as though the slow ritual would cleanse his blackness away from his mind and the wounds in his thighs that had started to scab over. He rinsed his face and fingered the black bags that were dragging the skin down beneath his eyes. He shivered as a cool breeze surfed under the balcony door and chilled his damp skin. He skipped breakfast but managed to force himself to eat lunch with Narcissa and Severus whilst Draco and Lucius took a gentle hike along the riverbanks. He wanted to hate the fact that he felt a germ of relief that the blonde man wasn't there, but he couldn't muster the energy to feel anything besides numbness.

He nodded along to the small talk that was brought up, sipped at his pumpkin juice and picked at his food, only managed to squeeze a couple of plump grapes down his throat, despite how raw it was. He was in such a daze of his own numbness, his mind completely blank, when a hand rested on his shoulder. His head snapped up, cracking his neck, and he winced as he squinted up through the blazing sun up at Severus' expressionless face, his onyx eyes shimmering weakly with concern. Harry closed his eyes shut and then raised his eyebrows in question. "It's time for you and Draco to have that little boat ride of yours. It will do you both some good, even if it is just a quiet ride around the lake."

Harry found his tongue sticking in his mouth, "I'm not a very strong rower."

Severus shrugged, "I don't see why that would be a problem," he gave a weak smirk, "Besides, I haven't seen Draco this relaxed in months."

'_Yes, it's all about his happiness isn't it_?' the voice sneered in the back of his mind. '_Never mind how you feel about anything, as long as Draco's happy_.'

Shaking his head he wordlessly excused himself from the table and let his heavy feet drag his body over the bright green grass down to the small dock leading out a few metres into the lake. Draco was already waiting there, his hair gleaming in the sunlight. Despite the bags under his own eyes and the restless night he'd had, the blonde man still managed to look impressive and somewhat happy. Was he really that excited about spending some quality time with Harry? It couldn't be true. It just didn't seem to make any sense. Something stiff stirred in his chest as his mind wandered back over the night before and how oddly comforting it had been nestled in the crook of Draco's arms. The feeling had been a dulled down, muffled echo of what 'comfort' used to feel like, but the fact that any feelings at all had penetrated the dull blackened numbness surrounding his mind. With a sigh he let Draco walk ahead of him a few paces whilst he stuffed his hands into his pockets. The wooden planks creaked underfoot as the water glistened brightly on either side of the narrow pier. If he didn't have his hands out, he wouldn't feel the urge to push Draco over the wooden beam barrier. He dug his nails sharply into his palms regardless, just in case the urge spiralled too far out of control.

He ground his teeth together as Draco awkwardly edged into one of the long boats, Harry clumsily shifting in behind him and taking the oars offered to him by an older man on the pier who then gently eased the boat out onto the water with his foot. It took a little while for him to work out how to row the oars but soon their boat was gliding out into the beautiful glassy surface of the lake, reflecting the bright blue of the sky and the vibrant greenery spiking out from the river banks and drifting down from the willow trees. Dappled by the sunlight, it really was a beautifully tranquil place to glide through on a lazy afternoon. The water trickled gently as he dipped the oars up and down through the glassy grey surface. He couldn't keep the darkness from swirling in his chest when he glimpsed over his shoulder and watched as Draco leaned over the edge of the boat, trailing his fingers through the rippling water as they glided along. A shiver ran through him as he steered the boat along. He didn't realise that the boat had veered off towards a deeper stream that branched off around an island, their boat and bodies becoming shaded by the dense willow branches entangled overhead.

Draco didn't seem too concerned as he leaned even more over the edge to grasp out at the willow branches, their slender vines of green leaves running through his fingers. Harry had held some hope that Draco would be paying attention to where they were drifting. When they eventually bumped into a large rock protruding through the water and the boat jostled heavily to one side, he whipped around to yell at Draco just in time to see his long legs disappearing over the edge and into the lake. Harry froze, his knuckles turning white as he grasped the oars. It couldn't be that deep surely? Draco could swim, couldn't he? How had those questions never come up before between them? No, he was positive that Draco could swim. This wasn't his first time at the Lake District after all. True to his memory, Draco's blonde head exploded from the frothing water at last, his mouth open in a silent scream for air, his arms flaring up over his head. Harry watched as still as a statue, his skin turning as cold as marble as he watched Draco struggling to keep his head above water, the thrashing in the water making the boat rock haphazardly and the water becoming more and more agitated as it sucked Draco back under, drowning out his choking screams for Harry to help him.

But he couldn't.

He just sat there, watching as the anguished bubbles began to fizzle out before his eyes. . His heart drummed in his ears and his stomach knotting over and over inside him making him feel sick and yet he still couldn't find the will power to loosen his grip on the oars and do something –anything –other than sitting in horrified stillness as the boat bobbed and swayed on the ripples. Would there be any real benefit from risking his own life in those deep cold depths to rescue Draco? Would there really be any real love lost between them since it had pretty much evaporated between them over the last six months? Unless … Had there about been about to be a breakthrough between them? Would they have been able to salvage something between them and make it grow? Cold dread sank down into his stomach and started to spread outwards until he was sure that his skin had turned to ice on his bones. He gripped the oars tightly and felt his eyes burn hot and deep inside his skull.

Could he live with a world without Draco? Did he want to live in a world without Draco? Or would it be better for him to live in a world where Draco wasn't even there, and then he wouldn't have nightmares about killing someone who was already dead of unfortunate circumstances. He'd be able to get some proper sleep! He wouldn't have anything to worry about. No more graveyard shifts at the hospital and he could go home at whatever time he wanted –to an empty house. Whatever brief flicker of bliss he may have felt was immediately drowned in the black lake in his head at the thought of waking up alone and falling asleep alone every night no matter what. He wouldn't have the miniscule relief of having the feeling of Draco's fingers slip between his own in the middle of the night when he was fast asleep –it had been like a phantom touch ghosting through into his sleeping mind and fighting the nightmare away. Even for a moment, but the relief washed through him like a warm wave.

Something flickered in his chest and he was snapped back to reality, the heat of the sun and the fizzing of the bubbles before his eyes. Panic spiked through his mind and he lurched to his feet, his arms flaying out as the boat rocked under him. How long had he been daydreaming? Was it too long? Too late? It couldn't be –he wouldn't let it be. He wasn't about to give up on Draco and risking the rest of his life without those tender soft moments that stopped him from putting the pillow over his face.

He wanted to gasp out in shock as the cold water soaked through into his clothes and closed over his head, swallowing him down into the blinding grey-blue depths. The weight of his clothes made him sink lower, the bubbles fizzing and hissing in his ears like vicious snakes. It took a little while for his eyes to adjust and he silently cursed himself from leaving his wand stashed away in the drawer in his bedchamber. He looked around, using his arms to force himself lower, further from the air and sunlight overhead and closer towards the weeds wafting up from the lakebed. The weeds tangled around his ankles as he kicked his leaden legs through the water, fighting his way lower still until he saw something pale and shimmering in the filtered rays of sunlight that spliced through the murkiness.

_Draco._

As he clawed his way closer through the forest of weeds, Harry squinted and reached out for the limp pale hand that was floating aimlessly through the slimy black tendrils drifting lazily around them. Draco's mouth was still open; water would be leaking into his lungs slowly and filling him up. He'd soon bloat and be completely lost to Harry if he didn't get him out soon. He grabbed the flaying cloth of Draco's garments and shifted his dead weight off the sandy lakebed, a few pebbles rocking and clicking together as the lifeless man shifted a little higher, making it easier for Harry to wrap an arm around the blonde man's chest.

He felt the wind explode in his lungs and saw stars swim about in his blurred vision as he tried to kick up away from the tangle of weeds without much success. Bubbles drifted from his nostrils and through a gap in his lips. He kicked his legs as much as he could but it was difficult seeing as Draco's dead weight in his arms was threatening to drag them back down to the murky grey depths and the tangle of black-green weeds tickling at their heels, as well as their soaked clothes clinging to them.

Greasy water poured down his gullet and rushed up his nose and into his ears and he was sure it even leaked under his eyeballs and soaked through into his skull.

Panic was boiling in his head as he struggled to claw his way to the surface. Air had never seemed so far away. He was sure that the lake hadn't been that deep in that particular area –a long way down perhaps –but not too deep that he couldn't get out. He was desperate for air and could feel his lungs screaming in his chest, begging him for oxygen. He wanted to cry out but refused to let the last of his air escape. He pushed his body onwards, one arm stretched out towards the sunshine filtering down into his eyes. He kicked his legs in a frenzied manner as fast as he could, his muscles burning with the effort of moving through water, something he wasn't accustomed to.

He wanted his fingers to breach the surface.

He wanted to have air fill his lungs.

He wanted to see Draco smile at him one last time …

The lake water seemed to darken around him, as though something had swallowed the sun up. Draco's weight was becoming far too much of a strain as he fought to keep them away from the lakebed. He felt his head grow hot again but there would be no point in crying underwater. He didn't realise it immediately when he felt Draco's limp ghostly body slide out from under his arm and slowly began sinking back down into the darkening depths below. Harry wanted to cry out and reach down for him but he had no air left, no adrenaline fuelled fire in his muscles to keep him from sinking too. He tried to fight the darkness clouding in around him but it swarmed closer, clawing at him as stars filled his vision and he gradually lost feeling in his toes and fingers. His heart was erratic and becoming muffled in his ears as he felt his body grow heavy and slide further through the dark blue-grey water. His chest felt as though it was being crushed through a great amount of pressure, making it uncomfortable and suffocating as his eyelids blinked shut against the panic, the pain and the ghostly pale man drifting far below him no doubt never to be seen again.

And with that last final thought, Harry let the darkness engulf him, praying that he would remain on the lakebed where he belonged.

He wouldn't be able to hurt anybody anymore.

~0~

A pressure that felt like a dragon's egg collided heavily into his chest. Bright white light flashed momentarily in his eyes. Water surged through his gullet and poured out his nose and bubbled up at the back of his throat. The pressure pummelled into his chest once again, and he felt his skull crashing back down onto something rough and hard. The world seemed to spin and water poured out of his throat and made more room for air to surf down his nose. Colour swam in spots before his eyes before settling into blurred shapes stretching far and wide. His lungs soaked up as much air as possible and his stomach unwound itself from the knot it had been twisting in. He pressed his mouth against what felt like wet wood and inhaled stiffly before his forced his head up.

"_DRACO!"_

The sound that ripped out of his throat would have scared wolves into running away. He hollered out nothing but pure, raw anguish as he looked over the pier as the lifeless blonde man dripping water. His throat was rough and scratchy as he banged his head back over and over on the planks, kicking his legs and pummelling his fists over and over until he wasn't sure if it was water running out of his fists or blood. He felt hands patting at his back and trying to force the rest of the greasy water up but it didn't ease the agony he felt tearing his heart and soul apart as Narcissa screamed out from the grassy banks, her hands coming up to her mouth as she collapsed to her knees and sobbed, clutching onto the narrow wooden railing for support as Lucius tried to pull her back up to her feet to no avail. She didn't have the energy to push him away. He watched as though he had floated out of his own body and observing as Draco's pale, blue tinted body was lifted away from the sodden planks and levitated back to Severus' house so that they could take him to the nearest hospital.

"_Draco-o_," he choked out as he dropped his head down onto his weak arms folded awkwardly under his body. He could feel hot tears mingling with the greasy lake water trickling out of his wet hair. He shivered as he gasped for air and pounded his fists into the wood again. It should have been him. They should have fished him out last, or better yet even left him down there on the lakebed to get strangled by the slimy black weeds. They should have fished him out last, or better yet even left him down there on the lakebed to get strangled by the slimy black weeds. He shouldn't be allowed to_ live_. It should have been _him_ lying there lifeless. At least then he wouldn't have anyone mourning his body. Why did Draco have to die? Why did it have to be _him_? Why? What sort of world would it be without Draco in it? There was no reason for _him_ to live if Draco wasn't there. If he could go back and drag Draco back into the boat, he wouldn't hesitate to do so. As long as he could step back into the lake right after, and hold himself underneath the boat until he blacked out.

It should have been _him_.

He trembled as something heavy, warm and dry fell around his shoulders and blared like a tartan mess in his line of vision. Hands hooked under his armpits and he was lifted away from the wooden planks, not realising that it was his body being moved, or his feet dragging roughly behind him. Wooden planks turned into grass in a flash. The floor beneath him faded and reappeared slower and slower as he blinked through heavy eyelids. He could feel the dark fog creeping into his waterlogged head again. Words and noises were muffled around him, as though his head was wrapped in bandages and distorted the sound. There was a steady drumming in his ears and humming through his chest, but he was pretty sure that it was a heart that didn't belong to him.

No; that heart in his chest? That belonged to Draco. It always would be.

He didn't know how long he was disorientated and bedridden but he remembered vague flashes of Severus diagnosing him as he drifted in and out of unconsciousness, and Narcissa murmuring beside him that she knew it wasn't his fault but they shouldn't have gone on the boat right with Draco's condition. They were both being stupid boys. By the time he finally revived enough to glance around his bedchamber and scrutinize the dark-haired man soaking a washcloth and laying it over his forehead, he felt weak and sweaty and his eyeballs hurt as they rotated in their sockets. His throat was parched when he tried to speak and wasn't too much better once Severus had given him some water. "How are you feeling?" Severus asked in his usual monotonous drawl. Harry forced his shoulders to shrug awkwardly against his ears, the muscles feeling heavy and weaker than he remember them. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Severus nod his head and then pull a book into his lap and began reading. Within the hour, Harry finally blinked up at the ceiling and felt that his head was substantially clear for the first time in what seemed like forever.

"What –What happened to Draco?" he managed to rasp out, not daring to look at his old mentor for fear of the bone-crushing disgust no doubt evident in his eyes. He didn't know why he asked. It would torture him to know but if he didn't, it would merely suspend the impact when he eventually found out.

There was a moment of silence before Severus spoke up, "He was taken to St. Michaels in Paris. It was touch and go for a little while and his heart stopped twice but he managed to choke up half the lake and according to the letter we received this morning, he is now stabilized and eating a little."

Harry closed his eyes and revelled as the information sluiced over him like soft, warm water. His lips twitched a little and he felt a single tear run down into his ear, "He's alive." It wasn't a question; it was merely saying the words aloud and making them twice as real as when Severus had said it. He felt the weight lift from his body and suddenly the world righted itself and the sun shone softly through the balcony windows and he could breathe a little easier.

"Now Harry," the younger man peeled his eyelids open and turned his head to the left to look at Severus full, "I have thought over everything that has happened and after much discussion between myself and Lucius and Narcissa, we have come to the agreement that it would be wise for you and Draco to not live with one another for a while." Harry blinked in surprised and then frowned weakly, not having the energy to argue but wishing that he did. "We have decided that for the next six months you are going to live here, with me."

"Here?" he rasped out, "Why?"

"So that I can take care of your health; I have already arranged it with St. Evangelina's and it has been granted that you are to be placed on sabbatical until at you are certified to work again."

"You had no right," he ground out, his voice hoarse to his ears.

Severus regarded him coolly, "After what happened in the lake, I have every right to do as I see fit to make sure you are no longer a harm to yourself or those around you. You are not well, Harry, but I believe you can be with some therapy, a strict regime and time away from work. You have been running yourself to the bone and I think you hit a wall."

"I did _no such thing_!" he rasped painfully, wincing as his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He didn't believe his own words but he wasn't simply going to lie there and be insulted.

"Yes you did," the older man continued steadily, "You lost sight of the distinctions between work and life. You forgot where work-Harry ends at the end of his shifts, and where home-Harry is when you get back to your apartment, and by extension you made Draco worry. You have deadened almost any psychological emotion inside your mind and you need to take the time away from everyone and everything. I believe if we take this one step at a time you will get better." He leaned forward in his chair, "I do believe that you can get better Harry, or I will die trying. Bearing in mind I will come back and harass you until you do."

"You'd spend eternity here just to make me suffer?"

Severus smirked, "Naturally. Now for the next six months you will be living here and when Draco is discharged he is going to be placed in the care of his parents for the time being. Now, I have already made arrangements for my old colleague, Horace Slughorn, to take over your duties at St. Evangelina's and also have said he can live in your apartment for six months whilst he settles back down in France and saves up enough for his own place. He will take care of your stock and replace anything he uses or takes. I have a full inventory already taken down so we will see if anything is missing later. When you eventually go back to work, I've established that Horace will be there to help you out. Sort of a partner, if you will. Nothing will be affected, just you will be working four days a week, instead of whenever you're called in, and I think, for now, the four-day-week will be good for you. You need time for yourself to decompress but we'll get to that stage," he stated as he waved the matter aside, "For now I will get you into a routine and get you healthy again and when I feel you are up for it, I'm going to slowly integrate you back into work and evaluate you progress."

Harry soaked up all of the information but it was too much too soon. He couldn't full digest it. He shook his head weakly from side-to-side, not because he was disagreeing, but because it was too many scenarios and consequences tossing and twirling in his mind for him to think straight. Finally his head lulled onto his shoulder and licked his lips, "Can I see him?" he whispered, so afraid of the answer was he that he almost hoped Severus didn't hear him.

Severus seemed to take a while to decide on the best course of action, before inclining his head. "Yes you may, but only for a little while. I don't wish him to get distressed when he's only just started to make some progress."

Harry could have taken it as an insult, because in a way it was, but he knew what was at stake. He had felt hollow until Severus' words had washed through him, the thought of the beautiful blonde man who had his heart, lying in a bed somewhere in Paris, awake and recovering and _alive_.

_Draco was alive._

"I don't think I can do this!" he choked out as he turned and tried to hobble past Severus. He didn't even make it two steps as Severus gripped his arms and spun him around and pushed him closer to the communal ward where Draco was staying. Narcissa had insisted to pay for a private room, but Draco had told her to shut up and stop fussing over stupid things. When Severus had told Harry this on the train, the younger man had cracked a smile at Draco coming back to his old, snappy self when he awoke.

"You can and you will," Severus stated as he strode out of the ward, leaving Harry standing there awkwardly in some borrowed clothes and edging weakly down the aisle between the beds of sick patients until he came around the pale curtain and his eyes landed on a pale Draco sitting upright in bed against his pillows, looking grey in the late afternoon sunlight pouring in through the high, narrow windows. His eyes flickered up when he saw Harry standing awkwardly at the end of his bed, but his expression didn't change when their eyes locked onto one another.

Harry felt itchy in his own skin as he gripped the bedrail tightly. He didn't know what he could say. What should he say? Everything seemed inappropriate. "Hi," he managed to breathe out, the silence cracking between them.

Draco's eyes narrowed on him, his arms folded across his chest seemed to tighten a fraction. "You'd better have a damn sight more to say to me than 'hi', Potter," he sneered out weakly, the bags under his eyes darkening as he narrowed them even further.

Harry nodded his head. He hadn't been expecting a warm welcome. He didn't deserve even the thought of one, he knew that. But to hear Draco talk down to him like that made his blood run cold. He managed to get his tongue working, "I know nothing I can say or do is going to make anything better," he looked up and fixed Draco with what he hoped was a determined look, "I am going to, though. I'm going to get better. Severus is going to help me. I _want_ to get better, Draco. I was so afraid when I saw you on that pier that I –I wanted to be in your place. I wanted to be the one knocking at deaths door. At least then you'd have been able to move on and get a new life. I have nothing without you, Draco."

Draco seemed to listen to the words, his expression never wavering as he soaked it in. He lowered his eyes and seemed to take a deep breathe, "I can't forgive you for this, Harry –"

"I know and I'm not asking you to forgive me._ I_ wouldn't forgive myself for this!"

Draco glared and continued, "And I think its best that you stay with Severus. You need help and you _should_ have gotten it sooner. I'm going to stay with my parents and I don't know if I'll want to see you after the six months are up. I have a lot to think through and a lot to sort out. My things have already been sent for and that," he nodded his head towards an envelope in his bedside table, "is for you. You are not to open until you go home and are alone."

Harry's eyes darted to the envelope as though it were a poisonous snake, "What's inside it?" he whispered through trembling lips, tears gleaming on his thick black eyelashes.

Draco shook his greasy blonde hair, "Later," he stated firmly, "For now, I think you should go."

Harry shook his head and came around to the side of the bed, leaning close to Draco and reaching for his hand. The pale hand shifted away and was tucked underneath his arm. Harry's hand froze in mid-air and he could feel his heart crack down the middle. He held Draco's gaze for a moment, feeling all the pent up emotion from the last few months boil inside him, before he lowered his hand to his side. "Is that really how you feel?" he muttered gently.

Draco looked like he wanted to snap an answer, but whatever retort it was he swallowed it and delivered a much calmer response, "For now. Let's just see how things go and maybe, in a few months, we can try talking again."

"I love you so much, Draco," Harry breathed leaning ever closer so that only Draco could hear him.

The blonde man nodded, "I know, Harry," he murmured as he looked up, "I know."

Harry didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay and be with the man he loved but he knew he couldn't. Draco would throw him out if he didn't leave, he could see it in his steely grey eyes. Feeling a weight pushing down in his chest, he reached over for the sealed envelope and pushed it down into his pocket before sparing one last longing look at the blonde man in the bed, before he brushed past the curtain and disappeared from the ward.

Later the night, by the light of the candle Harry took a panicking breath before ripping open the envelope despite knowing already what was inside. The solid shape through the paper was hardly difficult to discern. When he tipped the contents into his palm the tears finally gushed out along with the rough sobs that choked out of his throat. He dropped down sideways onto the mattress and pressed his clenched fist to his mouth, his wet lips kissing his white fingers that were clenched tightly around a simple gold band.

The gold band that he'd given to his husband.

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><p><strong>AN: This is the longest chapter yet, but it needed to be to fit everything in and I refused to stop or rush until I was satisfied and now I am :) Enjoy!**


	5. FUTURE Part 1

Rating: M

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter.

Disclaimer: France, 1852. Harry Potter is the apprentice to Head Healer Snape in Calais, and is taken on a weekend to Paris to attract potential clients. During that weekend he meets aristocrat Draco Malfoy, suffering from consumption. Ten years later Harry suffers his worst nightmare of a very ill Draco disappearing over the side of boat. Should he listen to his heart and go in and rescue his lover? Or should he simply let his suffering end at the bottom of the river? Either way he may have to go into the deep to find the answers. This tale faces the hardships of Stockholm Syndrome, severe depression, and a battered tormented love buried deep inside.

I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

><p><strong>Into the Deep<strong>

**FUTURE**

**Part 1**

**Paris, France, 1872**

It had been a trying week for everyone and by the time Draco forced himself to go Malfoy Manor to sort out his father's estate, he was emotionally and physically drained that he was so tempted just to get a wheelchair and have someone wheel him around in it. He didn't want to do it, but seeing the amount of distress that his mother was in he simply couldn't ignore it, even if it was for her own sake. He felt cold and shaky as his heels clicked one at a time as he trailed through the long marble corridors and up the grand staircase to the second floor. Everything seemed cold and colourless as he drifted along as if in a trance. He smoothed a hand over his slightly dishevelled hair and grimaced as the cold wintery air settled in his bones. It was far too dreary a day to be rifling through papers and getting accounts in order. He didn't want to do it and his father's solicitors had dealt with most of it including the reading of the will, which was all well and good but it left Draco with dealing with the private matters that only he and his family knew about. It wasn't that much of a secret that Lucius' accounted would immediately be shared out amongst Narcissa, Draco and Severus. Not that he cared about any of the accounts themselves. It was only because Mother wasn't fairing too well that he was taking another duty on his shoulders. Not that he could blame her for that.

The funeral itself had already been pre-arranged by Lucius, since he had claimed he needed something productive to do on his deathbed. Narcissa had tried to talk him out of it, but eventually she'd conceded and helped him with some of the planning. It wasn't the happiest of times in her life but it seemed to help Lucius' psyche to be able to make life after his death easier on his beloved wife. Draco hadn't been there for many of the discussions as it seemed like a private matter to be left between husband and wife. Not that he minded. He didn't really want to think of his father not being there at all times. It had been distressing enough with Severus telling them the diagnosis but have to sit there and plan the funeral? It had all gotten a little too much for him.

Upon entering his father's vast study of oak-panelled walls, dark oil paintings and thick embroidered curtains hanging over the windows, Draco drew in a sharp breath of the dusty musk that had followed his father around for the last few months. The air was almost stale in his mouth. It took his breath away, even more so than the numerous boxes stacked around the desk filled with documents and papers that had been dragged out of the attic. He settled himself down into the large leather chair behind the desk and ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain some semblance of energy in himself to tackle all the boxes. He pulled the closest one to him up onto the desk and set about rifling through its contents.

It was very late into the evening when he came to the last box, having sent an awful lot of the old papers into the fireplace to burn. They were useless now anyway. When he came to that last box he frowned as it merely seemed to be a hazardous jumble of letters tossed about inside, with no real order to them whatsoever; the only way to tell them in any sort of order was the date scribbled in the bottom right hand corner of every envelope. Realisation bubbled to the forefront of his mind as he recognised some of the untidy, chicken scratch writing that adorned the first few letters.

They were the letters from Harry from all those years ago.

Drawing in a deep breath, he poured the contents of the box out onto the empty desk and began sifting through them, organizing them by year, then month and at last official chronological dates. He was almost ashamed to admit that he'd forgotten he'd had the letters stashed away at the Manor. It had been such a long time ago it barely registered in his mind except for the dark days when he was forced to remain in bed with weak broth and hot tea with a cold flannel over his forehead and salve rubbed into his chest every hour. He loathed those days but Severus had taught him how to cope, even in the worst case scenarios. Once all the letters were organized into a neat pile, he cut off a length of twine, bound them together in small bundles and placed them neatly in his leather satchel before levitating yet another empty box into the fireplace. With a sigh he looked around his father's study, a knot forming in his chest and making him wheeze weakly into a handkerchief. He didn't want to leave it, not just yet. He forever counted his blessings that his father hadn't seen him as a waste of time like most other purebloods did to the '_weak link in the chain'_. He loved his father dearly for the love and pride he had for his family. Sometimes he was a little too pragmatic, but he did love them. That was the main thing about everything.

The grandfather clock down the hall chimed loudly through the empty rooms and Draco winced that now he would have to leave. He really didn't want to leave the place that he watched his father work on important cases and meetings whilst he'd sat in the overly stuffed chairs by the fireplace and played with a model train. Blinking black the tears that he refused to shed more of since the funeral, he turned his back on the room and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against the door, grasping the head of his father's cane in his hand, before forcing his legs to march him out of the Manor and into the grizzly damp Parisian day. He stepped up into the coach, tugging the collar of his travelling cloak tighter around him, before sitting back against the seats and resting his cane beside his leg, the silver snakes head gleaming in the overcast light.

"Where to Mister Malfoy?" the elderly driver called down through the narrow windows.

"Back to the station," Draco responded in an indifferent manner as he tilted his head to one side to watch the streets jitter past him. The roads in Paris were ever so bothersome; crammed with too many people too busy to remember the rules of driving a coach and not enough room to do it in. Not to mention a lot of the roads were uneven and awkward under the wheels, making Draco feel travel sick every time.

He'd always prefer the train.

He had to wait in the drizzling rain for almost forty minutes by the time his delayed train pulled into the station. He was sure that his ticket had gotten soggy in his cloak pocket but he couldn't bring himself to care as he tucked himself into a seat, draped his soaked cloak over the chair opposite and pulled his satchel up onto his knees. He smoothed the pads of his thumbs over the locks, as though taking his time would lessen the low of what the letters had to offer him. He was half hoping that when he pulled the front flap up that they would have disappeared, leaving no trace for him to read. '_It's going to be a long journey home_,' he reasoned with himself as the knot in his chest reappeared and he coughed against the back of his hand. Damned damp weather! Slipping the leather flap back he pulled out the first bundle out of one of the pockets unknotted the twine and then slipped the first letter out of its thick envelope. He wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting –after all it had been ten and a half years ago –but he had erased the brutality of the first few letters and the main that those words had caused him just by reading them over and over again by candlelight. The writing was scratchy and manic, veering off from side-to-side of the page, no eloquence to the letters at all. Not like the writing style in all of Harry's old medical reports and patient files. Swallowing thickly, his eyes flickered to the date in the top right hand corner and frowned, taking a deep breath to prepare himself.

**_19th September 1862_**

_Draco,_

_I know the likeliness that this letter will be thrown away before you even read it is high but I want you to humour me and read it, seeing as it's the first time I don't have Severus breathing down my neck and was even able to persuade the coachman to send it off for me. I can't trust the owls to deliver them without being intercepted._

_I am empty, Draco. I honestly think I should just grab a scalpel and cut myself open to truly see if I even have a heart left. You have mine but you also took yours back that day, so now I am sure my chest is empty. Not that I'm entirely opposed to it. If I do not have a heart I cannot feel, theoretically, therefore this time apart should not be like needles in my nervous system. Oh, but it is Draco. My eyes burn whenever I try to sleep because I have you on the underside of my eyelids. My skin is so cold without your touch. Just to see you would give me hope, but I am a prisoner here, my only company being Severus and the few servants he has. I must keep this brief but I am being driven mad already with this solitude. Even the servants don't really talk to me like they used to. They look at me as though I were mad, and you know, for the first time ever I think they may be right. Them! People with no knowledge beyond scrubbing pots and pans!_

_I'm sure my mind is slowly dying and every time I finger your ring in my bedside drawer –sitting alongside my own –I feel another piece of my soul drift out of my body. I miss what we were and what we had. That ring reminds me now that, not only do I not have hope, but I don't have a purpose anymore._

_I'm so lost._

_–H_

Through a shaking sigh of relief –it was always hard to read but it hadn't been as grotesque and frightening as his mind had made out –Draco replaced the letter inside the envelope and then slipped it to the back of the pile before picking up the next one and slipping it out.

**_4th October 1862_**

_Draco,_

_I am not expecting replies from you as one usually does whilst writing letters but I need something to keep my mind in check, focused as it were, and you seem to be the only thing I can think of at the present despite how much my mind hurts just thinking of the way you looked at me in the hospital ward._

_A part of me does wish that you would respond but that is merely wishful thinking on my part. I cannot do much more than wish all things considering. I don't even have many things during the day to keep me occupied once Severus had finished administering my potions and assessing my well-being. I don't think I have improved much. The only change in my routine is to have six small meals a day to get my stomach back to a decent size._

_I overheard Severus discussing with your father that your therapy is going well. That's a good sign considering it's not even been two months._

_Keep finding your way back through the darkness. Maybe one day I can do the same._

_–H_

They seemed awfully well mannered and although a lot of thought had clearly been put into writing them, Draco could see where Harry's grip on reality began to slip again. It wasn't until the last letter in that bundle, did cracks began to appear in the writing and the manic ramblings began to come to light. Draco blanched as he read the words, his stomach gripping in dread at Harry's chaotic thoughts.

**_27th December 1862_**

_You are such a coward Malfoy! What? I don't even get a little Christmas note from you? Am I not even worth two simply words on a piece of parchment to you now? Why should I bother writing? All these letters have no doubt gone straight into the fire without you even breaking the seal!_

_You are just like Severus. No! In fact you are worse; cold, heartless, self-centred and so driven by your father and his political ambitions to even give a thought to us regular people down here who have to work hard to get where we are! –Were!_

_I lost that because of you, you know? All that time I spent trying to help you, cure you, let you live longer than anyone else and you have to turn around and feed me to the dogs! You couldn't even send me one bloody letter, could you? Am I that worthless to you that you can't even send me a note, even if was to say to leave you alone? Am I that much of a dirty little pariah to you that you couldn't even have the ring I gave you?_

_I saved up months for that ring! I wouldn't have bothered if I knew all you were going to do was give it back!_

The letter had cut off there abruptly; a few ink splotches and clear smudged areas where tears had dripped into the writing made it difficult to discern if there had been another page or it Harry had merely shoved it in an envelope in his self-crazed stupor before letting the coachman post it for him. Up until that point that autumn, Draco had been refusing to reply to Harry, mostly because Severus had insisted that until Harry was better again he couldn't speak to Draco in any way. Although, Draco had wondered how Harry was supposed to recover with only one person to talk to on a daily basis. He had written to Severus and discussed things at great length with him the following week when the older man had come to visit, of course he didn't divulge that Harry had written to him, he had merely stated his curiosity and subtly brought up possibly starting a correspondence. Severus had insisted that he would consider it but since Christmas and the lonely affair it had been even with the Ministry function hosted by the Lake District at Severus' house, he insisted that Harry's mental breakthrough was a long way off yet and that any means of trying to talk to him would be futile.

Draco hadn't pushed the matter but instead he kept receiving secret letters from Harry. For the most part they were general anecdotes about a new thing Severus was letting him do each week, even if it was to help Slughorn in the office for one hour an afternoon, it seemed to bring back a childlike enthusiasm to Harry's words that Draco hadn't realised he'd missed so much until he'd read the letter sent to him at the very end of January.

**_27th January 1863_**

_Draco,_

_You will not believe what Severus let me do today! He let me help him set the bases for a new draught he's working on. Honestly, I thought that he wouldn't let me stick to our plan of moving my activities up, considering how I didn't eat for three days straight –the cold made me sleepy –but he is, and I cannot believe I get to work in a potions lab again! He also promised that if –IF –I managed to help him make the intended quote for two weeks today, he will let me write to you –with his knowledge of course. I can only suspect that's why you haven't written me a letter or anything. You probably didn't want me to get into even more trouble than I seem to get myself in._

_You have a good pair of hearts there, Draco. Take care of both of them._

_Harry._

Despite the shortness of the letter itself, only taking up about half a sheet of paper, Draco had found himself unable to stop smiling when he'd first read it and even now as he read it on the train home many years later it still brought a wistful smile to his lips. It must have been very dull at Severus' house with nothing to do all day for three and a half months straight. He also wanted to cry a little. The hopeful note in Harry's words had struck chords within him he hadn't known were there until that letter was open.

The train chugged along on the train tracks, the swaying of the carriage jostling the letters in his lap as he bound them once again and reached into his satchel for the next pile. He had quite forgotten the emotional range that the letters seemed to work on; one letter would have made him optimistic about Harry's recovery and then there would be a bad day, a day so bad and so wrapped up in his own head that his only way to get it out was to write to Draco and vent his frustrations. On those days his words would hurt and cut into the stone barriers Draco had erected around himself for his recovery process, but a few words had slipped through the cracks and it had made even thinking about replying to the brunette that much more difficult. Draco did have his bad days too, mostly when his therapist cancelled an appointment and he had to travel to the hospital instead or even something as so simple as the weather coming down and making his joints ache and creak. On those days he was too tired and exhausted to care what Harry had to say and didn't reply at all to any of the younger man's letters until Severus came to see him at the end of the following February. He could still remember how cold it had been that day, but not nearly as cold as the look in Severus' eyes. The lecture he had received for not responding to Harry had followed him around for weeks after.

"Draco, I know that the two of you are hardly seeing eye-to-eye at the moment, but if he is going to get back to interacting properly with people then he needs to start somewhere. You're the only person he is close to and I'd advise you to stop scowling. You'll ruin your face looking like that." He'd stated the irritability clear in his voice despite how controlled he kept it.

The blonde man scowled as he had shifted in the chaise lounge he was in, "I'm not in the mood to talk to him, Severus. I can't forgive him for what he's done."

"I'm not expecting you to," the ex-healer insisted as he leaned back in his own chaise, "But even if you talk to him about the weather or the family of moths in your fathers study, you need to do this for him. Just this and nothing else."

"He was going to let me die!" Draco spat out, his fair features flushing scarlet. His fingers tightened into fists, his knuckles flashing white, "What would you do?"

Severus regarded his godson coolly, "I know what he did was wrong, and even being ill doesn't excuse him, but honestly, Draco, he wouldn't have come back if he didn't regret his actions. I'm surprised he's even fighting to get better as it is."

Draco shook his head, "I told him to get help so many times but he refused and snapped at me. He'd gotten so tiresome I almost didn't _want_ him to come home." He jerked his head away and glared down into the fire as it crackled and hissed by his feet.

Severus nodded his head his eyes still cool and dark, "Draco, even if you never see him again help him to get through this. Help him to get better. At least that way you won't be feeling guilty when you're fully recovered and he's still stuck at my house and skulking about and wringing his hand as though he's waiting on a promise that will never ever come true for him."

Draco looked up at his godfather and felt the fight ebb out of him for a moment. He clenched and unclenched his fingers and shuddered in his heavy dressing gown. The fire crackled in the grate before them and he stared into it before answering, "Fine, I'll write him a letter. But I shall decide where to go from there on."

Severus sighed but inclined his head, "Very well if that's all I'm going to get from you, then so be it."

Draco could remember watching the dark-haired man stand gracefully and make his way over to the large ornate doors keeping the draft from the hallways from entering the room. The way he'd tugged the tartan blanket over his lap he turned toward the fireplace and closed his eyes to the soft heat emanating from it. As much as he slept he still felt tired and arguing with Severus just increased the pressure in both his head and in his chest.

Opening his eyes he was greeted with the sight of dark grey clouds shading the horizon and a curtain of rain spilling down against the window. He grimaced at the ache blooming in his chest. He could feel a stiffness creep into his knees and wanted nothing more than to stoke a fire and curl up in front of it with a blanket tucked around him. He had never felt as old as he did at that moment. He blew warm air onto his hands and rubbed them down his face before taking out another letter from inside his satchel. He slipped it out of the envelope and held it a little closer to read in the dimming light.

**_14th March 1863_**

_Draco,_

_I cannot tell you how surprised I was to finally get a response from you. I actually cried last night reading it –I don't know why I'm telling you that but I feel like you should know, for some reason. I'm keeping it tucked under my pillow to read whenever I wake up in the middle of the night, which is becoming less and less frequent, thankfully. I don't really know what to write about now that I know you'll have to read it and form a reply. Severus said to start with something simple –but what?_

_The weather is pretty bitter here but the sun is peaking out a little now and again. It reminds me of some of those walks we took along the Seine, even if the weather got wet and rained down on us. It made me smile. Still does just thinking about it really. Severus walked around town with me and took me along to the local apothecary. It's not as well stocked as ours was but even so it was pretty impressive for such an elderly man to be working at. I wish you could see it. Maybe you have, I wouldn't be surprised about that._

_How are things with your parents? Are they –do they judge me?_

_Harry._

Draco could still remember that day that they'd walked along the Seine on the second summer of them living together and had visited his parents for a couple of weeks. It had rained heavily on a casual trip strolling through the Parisian streets and they'd had to use Draco's satchel as a cover for the both of them as they'd hurried to duck under a nearby tree for a poor excuse of shelter. It was one of the sweet little moments that he treasured throughout the rest of that summer, and he stole every chance he got to touch Harry. They'd had to be careful around the manor, although one time as they were eating in the dining hall, Harry had slipped his foot out of his shoe and stroked Draco in a few places he didn't think were at all appropriate to touch under a dinner table, especially when he spluttered his wine down his front and choked a couple of times into his napkin. His father had scowled at him and his mother and tutted with a shake of her head. Draco had glared at Harry across the table but the younger man had merely smirked over at him mischievously.

It had been a few years after that summer that everything had started to go wrong. It had started off fairly simple at first; a missed meal here, a late night there, but sooner or later Harry had started taking up night-shifts that would bleed him dry of both energy and liveliness. It hadn't been so bad at first, just a couple of incidents over the space of a couple of months. It hadn't really bothered Draco at all, a minor irritation that was quickly dissolved when Harry would take a couple of days off to spend with Draco. They had taken daily strolls around Brittany, dipping into each and any shop that took their fancy, and even stopped inside a coastal hotel that looked out over the sea and the sandy beach below. They had sipped at sweetened teas and eaten little cakes from a sweet, elderly muggleborn lady who had a young wizard for a grandson who would race along the sea wall with his friends, a little wooden muggle train clutched in his hand. Draco would chatter away about the incessant regulars who came into the shop almost daily to demand the newest stock he had. He would then listen to Harry about the abnormal amount of aurors he got in weekly who got splinched whilst apparating and using the floo network. One man had lost his eyebrow in Switzerland!

They had shared many laughs even as they'd strolled along the sea-front, skimming their cloaks along the damp sand and getting the froth of the waves hitting against their shoes before the sand soaked it up again.

Oh, how he wished he could have had another little weekend away at the coast.

The train creaked along the rails and with a cursory glance out of the window; Draco noted that he was only two stations away from where he needed to climb off. He couldn't wait to get home to the warmth that he hoped would be welcoming him. In this blasted weather he honestly prayed that the timed charms he'd performed on the floors and furnishings would gently start to warm up within the next ten minutes. The place would feel almost Heavenly when he stepped inside, he was sure of it. He packed the letters away into his satchel, knowing only too well how they'd end as he rubbed his fingers against his temples and cleared his throat. He rubbed his hands together before slipping his gloves on. At long last the train pulled up into his station and he slipped his cloak around his neck, grasped his cane in one hand and his leather satchel in the other as he hobbled off the train, the creak in his knees making him wince a little. '_Damned weather,'_ he muttered under his breath as he glared out of the window at the bleak weather. He had to wait another twenty minutes in the biting wind and cold rain before a coach pulled up on the uneven cobbles and Draco pulled himself up into the cool dryness, shaking greasy rain water out of his hair and scrubbing it out of his eyes. Once he had given his address to the driver, he closed his eyes and listened to the pattering of the rain on the roof above his head.

His bed was calling to him and he was desperate to answer that call after such a long horrible day. He wanted to change into warm, dry clothes and curl up with a book in front of the small fireplace in the lounge area of his apartment. He took his pocket watch out of his waistcoat pocket and grimaced at the time. He hadn't realised how late it had gotten but then it did make sense with how dark the sky had gotten so quickly. As the wheels creaked and chattered along the cobblestone road, he felt his fingers itch to slip another letter out of his satchel and read it to take his mind off the long journey still to be had. He finally sighed and berated himself as he dug around in his satchel and unfolded a letter out, peering closely to see it in the blooming light of the streetlamps. He swallowed thickly and began to read.

**_5th April 1863_**

_Draco,_

_I'm glad your parents aren't too mad at me for everything, although I don't see why Severus needed to go into so much detail about everything. He did tell me that your therapy is going really well. I didn't know that your leg was injured as well. I suppose it couldn't have been helped with the way you were dragged around afterwards, but I didn't think you needed therapy on it._

_Severus is letting me help in the children's ward now, since their cases are generally very basic, like colds and fevers and sprained ankles from too much running about. Its good practise and I hadn't realised how much I'd missed working with such simple things. I'm only helping there during the afternoons but it means I also get to sleep and have Severus diagnose me and decrease the dosage of my potions. I'm glad of that; they were making me really drowsy and lethargic. My head feels a lot clearer and now that the sun is peaking out again, I think I'm starting to feel –not happier –but my content. I think that's a good sign._

_How are you enjoying staying at your parents? I hope you're getting out a little more as well. Being cooped up indoors all the time does very little to keep you motivated to keep going on with therapy and treatments. I'm glad you're responding to me. I know I shouldn't bank so many feelings towards getting a reply from you but it makes my otherwise dull days a little better. Especially seeing as I now have two things to look forward to. My appetite is even coming back and I'm able to eat most of what Severus has made for us. Although I do miss the simpler meals we used to make for one another. Remember those?_

_I await your reply,_

_Harry._

A few of the letters followed the same pattern, responding to questions and replying with other small facts about how each day varied from the next and generally how Harry had been feeling recently, and the hopeful tone he seemed to adopt whenever he reminisced about the old memories they shared in his letters to Draco. He remembered that he hadn't been too ecstatic about responding right away. He'd wanted to be optimistic and hopeful and reply with the same painstaking enthusiasm as Harry wrote to him, but he couldn't force the merriment out of him. His mind was formed with the dark blue rippling of his mind about that day. He didn't want to think about that specific day but he couldn't help how he felt. There were some days where he did write back with a smile on his face, but as soon as he had sealed the envelope he'd felt his stomach drop into his shoes. He ran a hand down his face and slouched a little in his embroidered chair, something he'd managed to bring with him from the manor. It was his old favourite from his room and he loved to trace a finger over the patterns absent-mindedly. A lot of the letters followed the same pattern. There were a few erratic ones, where Harry had a bad day or got agitated by something that Draco had written to him. Some were simply too frustrated.

**_11th May 1863_**

_Why can't you just tell me that you feel the same? I've been working so hard to get better, Draco. For you! I want to be good enough for you again, why is it so hard for you to accept that from me? Why won't you let me see that I've changed? Why, Draco? Am I that despicable to you that you have to hide away in that damnable dreary manor for the rest of your life? Well?_

_JUST ANSWER ME!_

The wheels creaked and the coach jerked and then pulled to a stop. Opening his eyes with a soft sigh, Draco struggled out of the coach, paid the driver and then turned his attention to the darkened windows of the apothecary and the apartment over the top. After everything, he simply couldn't let the place go; all the memories good and bad were locked up in there. Plus, he'd gotten used to working about in the shop. Slughorn hadn't minded moving out, he'd found a better place a little closer to the hospital with more room for all of his belongings that had been in storage until he moved.

Draco grimaced at coming home to a darkened place but at least he could move around once he lit the fires and set his clothes out for drying. By the time he'd get changed the place would be warm, he knew it.

As he slotted his key into the lock of the door to the apartment he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end and a shiver run down the length of his spine. Frowning heavily, he turned the key and pushed the door inwards and stepped into his dark apartment. As he observed the room he was confronted with, even in the darkening gloom he couldn't see anything out of place. Frowning even deeper, he dropped his keys onto a nearby table, and began turning on the oil lamps dotted about the room. The room came alive bringing small objects into sharp relief as he went about unfastening his waistcoat, shirt and trousers before toeing his shoes off and slipping down into a nearby chair. He ran a hand down his face and sighed wearily. It had been a long tiresome day. He pinched the bridge of his nose and his eyes fell upon his briefcase once again, the letters sticking out from underneath the flap. He bent down, his knees pressing into his chest, as he tugged the last couple of bundles out. His breath was a little shaky as his fingers hesitated on the already opened envelop. He didn't know why he was hesitating. He knew what the letters said, and he knew the course they took. He also knew how they ended. Did he really want to read them all over again? Slipping one out, he held it at an angle so that the firelight caught it.

**_30th June 1963_**

_Draco,_

_I don't know if Severus has already told you or not, but apparently you and your parents are coming up to the Lake District for the summer holidays. I know it holds bad memories for you –and me, don't make any mistake about that –but I promise you I have been banned from being near the boats of the pier at all for the duration. Some things just can't be helped and I'm not surprised that they don't trust me with it yet._

_He's invited me too and I know you may not want to see me but I promise you that if you wish, I shall keep my distance. I don't want you to worry about not having any time to yourself. I know we have been getting easier with writing to one another but I don't know how well I will do seeing with you in person. You've rejected all chances in the past, but this summer it will be inevitable. I'm merely asking you that you do not run screaming at the sight of me, even though I should hope I look a lot better than the last time you saw me, snivelling at your bedside._

_I still have the ring, I don't know why I'm telling you this but I feel like you need to know. For some reason. I spent many nights holding it and tracing it and murmuring to myself, as though doing all of these things would make you materialize in front of me in my bed and wrap your arms around me and tell me that it was nothing more than the longest nightmare in the world. Many nights, I wished it were and to just wake up to your handsome features. Alas, I was not so blessed. I also went down to the river many times in the evening, and even once paid to go to the docks and simply stood there for a while and stared out across the water, watching as the black waves lapped at the beams and wishing so badly that I could grow the guts to wade in there and relieve you of the misery that is Harry Potter._

_I couldn't do that though. I couldn't even throw the blasted ring into the water. If I couldn't do that then how was I meant to kill myself let alone the man I loved with all my heart and soul? I couldn't have killed you Draco. Not even in my lowest moment was I able to do that and I never wish to do that. You were and still are the reason the sun even shines in my world, the reason the clouds go away for the day, the reason I even force myself out of bed in the mornings. A lot of that is due to the fact that I am still hoping and praying that I will get to see you again, and you will be happy and I will be able to live the rest of my life at peace knowing that I haven't destroyed such a beautiful, remarkable person._

_I will always love you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, and I still hold onto the hope that one day you will love me back again. Maybe not the way you used to, but I'd be happy with any sort of love from you._

_Yours forever more,_

_Harry Potter._

It was the first time, in any of the letters, that Harry had signed his full name. It was also the last letter that Draco had received that year. He refused to admit, even at that point, that he had been worried and fretted over Harry's well-being and sanity, especially when he didn't write to even complain about miniscule things. It had niggled at the back of his mind but he had refused to actually write to the young brunette man. He didn't actually get a chance to talk to Harry until in late July when he and his parents travelled the arduous journey along to the Lake District. Once they had settled into Severus' manor and taken a late afternoon nap to gather themselves, they went along to the conservatory and found Severus, Horace and a straight-laced, clean-cut young gentleman with his back to the three of them.

Looking back on it all now he should have realised that the young, clean-cut gentleman was in fact Harry. He really should have known what to expect, but even as he heard the deep-throated, beautiful laugh from his memories it had been too unfamiliar a sound for him to pinpoint it. When Severus had looked up and welcomed them from their nap, the young man had turned around in his seat. The way his face had split open into such a breath-taking smile still sent shivers running down through Draco's stomach. He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him as he stared down at the brunette man with a new haircut, freshly shaven and smartly dressed in a crisp summer shirt and a delicately embroidered waistcoat.

It was a shock to them all that afternoon and Horace had eventually laughed good-naturedly to try and dispel the tension. It had worked for a short moment and then when everyone had settled down Severus and Horace were quickly engaged in a conversation with Lucius about some form of politics or other, and Narcissa naturally chimed in whenever her husband's statement needed supporting. She knew a lot more than she let on, but above all things she knew her place.

That had left Harry and Draco alone on the other end of the table.

To that it had been awkward to begin with would be like telling someone that plants needed both sunlight and water to flourish. They had sat across from one another sharing small smiles and averting their eyes from one another. They were observing one another in each of those little glances, as though trying to assess how mentally stable the other person was before engaging them in conversation. It was almost as though they were perfect strangers to one another. Finally it was Harry who had decided to break the silence, "Would you like to accompany on a walk across Severus' gardens, Draco?" he asked rather formally, a wide smile still on his pink lips, "He's become quite the horticulturist since I was here last summer."

And there it was –the final nail in the coffin.

The silence that had stretched out over the conservatory was suffocating as Harry had so casually referred to his breakdown. Draco waited for something catastrophic to happen but nothing did. Harry simply arose from the table and extended his hand towards the blonde man before him and smiled warmly. With all eyes upon him Draco had jutted out his chin, stood up gracefully and smoothed his own waistcoat down and walked along past Harry out of the conservatory and into the lush green gardens that he had stared at all afternoon. He had to admit that the gardens were beautifully, and it wasn't exactly as stifling as he'd thought it would be walking side-by-side with Harry almost like old times, only not so close. It had been a pleasant afternoon and much to everyone's surprise it was the small pebbles of warm summer afternoons that started to pave the way back to some sort of relationship with one another, regardless of what sort of relationship it would be.

He felt his chest constrict as the words and the memories assaulted him. He pressed his fingers against his temples, clenched his eyes shut tight and when that didn't work, he stood up and went over to his decanter of whisky and poured some of the amber liquid into a glass and down it at once, the burning liquid surging down his throat and lighting his chest on fire. He choked out a couple of coughs before pouring himself another two-fingers of whiskey and taking it back over to his chaise and slumped down in it, the fire heating him from the grate and his eyes slightly unfocused as he drifted back to that summer.

When the sound of panicked footsteps rushed up behind him, creaking on the floorboards, and the door slamming loudly in its frame, he flipped around in his chair ready to shout at whoever it was when he felt his chest loosen a little and his heart to calm down. "What the bloody hell do _you_ think you're doing?" he spat out as he glared up at the man standing against the apartment door before turning back around in the chair, the letter twisted tightly in his sweaty palm and quickly stuffed the others back into his leather satchel and kicked it underneath his chair with his foot and sighed.

The man in the doorway tugged the hood from around his face with eyes that made the blonde's stomach knot, "Nice to see you too, dear husband."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes this part is a little cliff-hanger-y [yes that's not a word but whatever] and quite angsty, but I hope now you get a better idea of what Harry and Draco both went through. One last installment! Please R&R!**


	6. FUTURE Part 2

Rating: M

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter.

Disclaimer: France, 1852. Harry Potter is the apprentice to Head Healer Snape in Calais, and is taken on a weekend to Paris to attract potential clients. During that weekend he meets aristocrat Draco Malfoy, suffering from consumption. Ten years later Harry suffers his worst nightmare of a very ill Draco disappearing over the side of boat. Should he listen to his heart and go in and rescue his lover? Or should he simply let his suffering end at the bottom of the river? Either way he may have to go into the deep to find the answers. This tale faces the hardships of Stockholm Syndrome, severe depression, and a battered tormented love buried deep inside.

I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Into the Deep<strong>

**FUTURE**

**Part 2**

Draco glared up at the dark-haired man from over his shoulder before guiding his gaze back to the swirling amber liquid in his glass. "Don't taunt me with your jibes, I want to know what the bloody hell you think you're doing, just wondering in here at this time of night and thinking you own the goddamn place!"

"Well if we're going to get technical about this sort of thing, I do own at least half of it, maybe even a little more," stated the other man as he ruffled his hair.

"Oh would you just shut up for one moment, Potter, and not be a total arsehole for once this year!" Draco sneered, suddenly not in the mood to be joked at. His fingers clutched his glass tighter as he sighed and dropped his head into his free hand. "Where have you been 'till this hour? It's far too late."

The man raked a hand through his hair and responded with a slightly panting voice, "I didn't think I would be so late," he breathed out, his cheeks blotchy and cool from rushing about in the frigid air. His dark hair was plastered down and water dripped from the end of his nose, "I missed the train and had to run to get a coach. I'm sorry," he added soberly, "I honestly didn't expect it to upset you this much. Clearly I had misjudged how well you were handling things."

"A likely story," Draco muttered to himself, before sighing. It was too cold to argue. It had been such a long, distressing day and his nerves were shot. He rubbed at his chest and drew in a couple of long breaths, "I can only handle a small number of things at a time. You know this. It would seem that father's death just pushed me out a little too far and I wasn't ready for all of it yet."

"Did you decide on what would become of the manor?" Harry asked as he hung his drenched cloak on the coat rack and cast a drying spell on it.

Draco waved his hand dismissively, "For now mother is going to live in it but it's entirely up to her as to whether it will become her permanent residence, or if she decides to sell it and let it go to another pureblood family. Or even be converted into a hotel. At this point I think she is still a little too numb with grief to think properly."

"And what of you?" the brunette man asked softly not wanting to upset his companion any more than he already appeared to be.

Draco's shoulders slumped in a defeated manner, "I'm upset, naturally. He was my father after all and I loved him a great deal."

"I know you did," Harry soothed as he reached out and gave Draco's shoulder a squeeze, "Try not to dwell on it too greatly, alright? Not on your own at least. Severus will be more than happy to help you or even listen to you if you feel you need someone to speak to."

Draco followed his vision of Harry's fingers to his wrist and then up the dampened curve of his forearm until his eyes drank in the squared jaw and the stubbled chin and the tired yet bright green eyes, "Perhaps sometimes I wish to have a quiet conversation with my husband, instead of worrying about whether or not Severus is asleep at this hour." Harry gave a fleeting smile before his eyes drifted to the fireplace, a hairline frown appearing on his features. The man came around the edge of the armchair. Draco pried an eyelid open to look up at the sodden man before him and sighed, "Go and get changed. You look a fright."

A cold, damp hand rested on Draco's, sending frosty spikes shooting up his arm. "I didn't stop off for a drink, Draco," he stated matter-of-factly, referring to Draco's earlier accusation, "You know that I didn't. I haven't for years so why would I suddenly go back there now?" he asked, his words getting harsher as he wore on.

Draco shrugged a shoulder not making any move to dislodge the hand from on top of his own, "I know you didn't. I didn't mean to snap. It's just been a long hard day and it just doesn't seem to end." He looked up at the green-eyed man beside him and turned his palm around and linked their fingers together. "I wish you could have stayed though. I thought Slughorn was in charge of the ward today anyway?"

Harry nodded his head, "He was but apparently there was an accident with one of the auror missions and several of the men had serious wounds. All of the staff was needed. It couldn't have happened on a worse day I know. I tried to tell him that I needed to get back to be with you, but he insisted that since I was not legally bound to you like I would be to a wife, it wasn't too great an emergency, funeral or no. I had wanted to yell at him there and then and show him the ring but I didn't want that sort of damage to be done to either of us. I tried to finish as fast as I could but they just kept sending more emergencies my way. I truly am sorry I couldn't have stayed. Your father was a great man. I had and still have a great deal of respect for him."

Draco waited for a moment, watching as Harry disappeared into their adjoining bedroom and made short work of stripping out of his soaked clothes and hanging them about the dry around the fireplace before coming back to seat himself in the armchair across from Draco. "I found your letters this afternoon whilst I was clearing out fathers study. All the documents had been put in there. I'd almost forgotten about them completely until I found them today."

He glanced up to see Harry's face increasingly pensieve as his eyes glimmered in the gold light of the fire. "You kept those?" he breathed, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the flames, "After all these years you still have them?"

Draco nodded his head and couldn't help a small smile grace his lips as he fingered his glass and sipped at it, "Despite everything back then I kept them, mainly to track your progress and see how things were doing, what topics I should avoid until you were a little stronger and new and interesting things that I'd need or want to ask about at a later date."

"May I see them?" the brunette asked tentatively, not wanting to cross any lines with Draco and his possessions. He didn't want to upset him.

Draco reached underneath his chair and pulled his satchel out and handed Harry the small wad of already opened letters. "I was reading a bunch of them on the train home. You know how that journey can be. I needed a distraction. It did remind me of that summer a year after it had happened –You'd looked like a changed man. Almost happy, almost at peace with yourself," he commented with a twinkle in his silver eyes.

Harry smirked knowingly, "Don't let my appearances fool you. I was so excited that day I'd been awake long before dawn. I was pacing back and forth everywhere until Severus told me to go out into the garden and he would call me in when you had arrived, but then you and your parents went to take a nap and I didn't see you until later that day. You had honestly looked so handsome," he stated as he looked over at Draco who, although travel-weary with bloodshot eyes, still sent the blood pumping through his veins. He let his mind wander momentarily back to that summer when Draco had followed his parents into the conservatory; he had looked immaculate as ever, like the night they had first met in the hotel function room in Paris, and although he looked a little thinner than beforehand, Harry couldn't help but smile as wide as he had.

He hadn't meant to take things so fast that summer, but on one of the nights when they had taken an early evening picnic in the gardens underneath the cherry blossom tree as they had the previous year, he couldn't have helped how romantic the sunset shining in Draco's eyes had made him feel. That night he had thrown all caution to the wind and had leaned over to press his lips gently against Draco's. Mentally, he had been bracing himself for an almighty slap to strike his cheek, but it hadn't come. Instead, he had felt the feather light pressure of Draco's soft full lips responding underneath his own. The tender little touch had thrilled him and forced the air out of his lungs as they'd pulled away from one another and stared into one another's eyes.

He had wanted it. Of course he had wanted it! He would have been a fool if he hadn't, but he should have showed some restrained in the matter and let Draco lead things the way he wanted to. He had ended up apologising profusely, backing away from their blanket in the shaded grass and turned from the blonde and hurried back across the lawn to the house. Draco wouldn't have appreciated being left behind in the growing darkness but he had needed some time to distance himself and gather his thoughts before letting himself run rampant again. He didn't have to wait long to know how Draco felt about it all, as that night the blonde aristocrat had snuck up to Harry's bedchamber –the one with the balcony looking out over the gardens and the lake –and had demanded to be let in.

They had spent the entire night sitting in their nightshirts in separate armchairs by the fireplace and spoke in hushed voices, having to lean closer together to hear the other over the soft crackling of the fire. It had been a relatively calm evening, even as the dawn had tickled at the edges of the earth and teased the sky lighter and lighter. They must have drifted off at some point because when the first twitters of the birds sung out across the sky; Draco had removed himself from the armchair, stretched his aching muscles and then grasped the head of his cane before heading for the door. Harry had followed and before he left to get a few hours of proper sleep, Draco had lowered himself against Harry and pressed their mouths together in a much stronger kiss than the evening before.

Harry had stayed awake for another hour, tracing the contours of his lips as though Draco's own were imprinted upon his skin, before drifting off with a smile hiding behind his hand.

Harry's lower lip wobbled a little at the memories dancing in the flames of the fire before he wiped at his dampening lashes and cast a shy eye around the room, "To this day I'm still surprised we're back here again. I was sure Severus was going to sell this place to Slughorn."

Draco hummed, "I wouldn't have let him. We put so much time and work into this place; I couldn't just let it go to someone else."

"Like our relationship you mean?" Harry muttered, a dark shadow passing over his face as he turned his face away from Draco's.

"Don't do that," Draco pleaded softly, the gentle tone in his voice making Harry's heart twist in his chest.

"Don't do what?"

"Act as though you doubt that I wanted to repair this relationship because of how I felt for you instead of not wanting it to be for naught." He shot an exasperated look at the brunette across from him, his thick dark hair tinged with greying threads at the temples gleaming in the firelight. He leaned forward in his chair, "I decided that I saw the man I fell in love with once again. I saw the man I love coming back to me where he belongs. I saw you getting better and getting the best possible care in the world and that made me think just how serious you were about everything we discussed in those letters. How almost losing me must have scared you that much to catapult you out of your insufferable denial. I'm not making excuses for you and we both know that, but I'm _not_ dead, and that is the most important part. You _almost_ let me die but you didn't, and that counts for more than you let yourself acknowledge. So please,_ please_, stop trying to make me admit that I am only here because of how inconvenient it would be for me to be elsewhere, because that is never going to happen, Harry."

Harry huffed a small smile and wiped at his dampening eyes before looking up with a timid smile at Draco, "I kept all of your letters as well. I had them under my pillow whilst I slept. I think they helped me push on with the treatment and the therapy."

"I actually remember the day I realised I was looking forward to your letters," Draco mused as he leaned over and placed his glass on the small table beside his armchair, "It was the morning that the post was unusually late and I had a small moment of panic and then suddenly, I was handed your letter and I felt so much joy in that moment," he sighed with a wistful smile, "It really was the brightest morning in May."

Harry felt the corners of his mouth turn downwards at the corners. "It took you that long to want to hear from me?"

Draco nodded with a small smile, "I was being incredibly stubborn at not wanting anything more than a basic correspondence, but that morning shifted everything into perspective for me."

Harry smiled softly and then looked over into the fire without really seeing it, "I know what you mean. The tone of your letters was more open after that letter I sent to you. It was like you were opening up to me again. It made me feel so much happier for the first time in months."

"I did miss you, you know?" Draco finally muttered softly, as he looked up to find Harry watching him intently, "I just didn't know if I was allowed to after … everything."

Harry's lips quirked a little before he ran a hand through his damp hair, "Is it wrong for me to admit that I'm glad you have a different healer?" he asked, sounding half-ashamed at the admission.

Draco rolled his eyes with a soft smirk, "I don't think so. Severus did explain about how the boundaries could easily be blurred to either one of us and we needed to take precautions to keep them in place. Although I don't mind when you do take care of me for silly little things like a fever or something. I like that you're attentive when I'm ill."

Harry reached out and rested a hand on Draco's knee, smoothing his thumb over the strong, lean muscles under the cloth, "I do like taking care of you, even now. It's just –easier to do out of love and of my desperate need to not see you ill, than to feel I'm obliged to do so because I'm technically your physician." He smiled over at the blonde who had a vague smirk on his face, "I'm glad that Severus explained it all to you, though. I just know I would have mucked it up and make it sound like a personal insult to you."

The blonde man slipped his hand over Harry's and squeezed, "Oh, I know." He drew in a deep breath and flexed his shoulder muscles, "So are you going in tomorrow?" he asked quietly.

Harry shook his damp black hair, "No, I took the next week off. I want to spend some time with you for a little while. I have missed you and I want to be there for you. I know losing your father was difficult on you even though it was predated. It's never easy to watch someone you love … slip away from you."

Draco didn't miss the latch in Harry's voice. Even after all these years the guilt could still assault him in raw, hungry waves and it made his heart ache to watch his companion suffer.

He snatched his lovers hand in his own and drew it to his lips, "Hey, hey, it's alright. I'm here okay? I'm not going anywhere just yet. I know you tried. I'm glad that you tried." He leaned over and cupped Harry's face in his hand and stroked his thumb over the bristled cheek, "I'm _here, _Harry."

Harry's eyes were downcast as he nodded his damp cheek against Draco's palms. He blinked up and looked anywhere but at the blonde man leaning so close to him, his head was starting to feel hot and he wanted to let the tears out but why did they have to come _now_? He drew in long shuddering breaths and tried to calm himself, despite the flushing of his body and the way his hands became clammy. He reached up and stroked his hand over Draco's own and inhaled the soft scent of the blonde man's skin. "I'm sorry about what was said in those letters. I know they were a long time ago and we were going the roughest patch known to all of wizarding kind, but –I still feel bad about how some of those things you said affected me."

"It's alright Harry; we all said a lot of things in the heat of the moment."

"Are you sure?" Harry sniffled into his shirt cuff as he tried to dry his face off.

Draco nodded, his eyes heavily lidded and his lips parted as he breathed roughly and leaned in to press their mouths together, hot, wet and arousing. Harry let the warm mouth kiss him, fighting through the fog in his mind that was numbing his senses. He let out a soft hum of pleasure and let his eyes fluttered closed completely when he felt a sharp tooth graze across his bottom lip and tug gently. Draco pressed another kiss to his lips, and then another and another until he pulled Harry closed towards him with such hungry urgency that it ignited something within the younger man as fingers threaded through his thick, dark hair. "Take me to bed, Harry," he growled low in his throat despite the constrictions in his chest brought on by the weather, "Make love to me. I want you to make love to me all night and long."

Harry felt a shiver run through him as he looked up at Draco with wide clear eyes for the first time all evening. He licked his lips nervously, not trusting himself to speak. It was very rare in their relationship, before and definitely after that summer, for Draco to relinquish any form of control in their love-making. So rare, Harry almost never anticipated it. And every time Draco asked for it, it made Harry's heart flutter anxiously in his chest. He swallowed thickly, "Are –are you sure, Draco?" his voice wavered awkwardly as he peered into the silvery grey eyes of his lover.

Draco nodded, "Yes, I need to feel you inside me. I need you to dominate me. I need you to make me scream and beg and lose myself underneath you." He pressed his hot, hungry mouth onto Harry's and moaned low in his throat as he clutched Harry tighter, "I want to greet the sun tomorrow morning still screaming your name over and over into the pillows with you buried deep inside me."

Every grunted word made Harry shiver as he felt himself harden a little through his trousers. He could distinctly see Draco's own arousal highlighted by the flickering flames dancing in the grate. He reached down with his quaking fingers, and –feeling brave –traced a line up the length of Draco's cock through his trousers and suppressed a smile as Draco hissed through his teeth and tilted his head back, exposing his beautiful white throat. "Do you like it when I touch you?" he murmured as he splayed his fingers around the thick length, feeling his stomach knot when he felt the hot, thick heat twitch under his palm.

Draco growled and nodded as he clutched Harry's hair tightly in his hand. "I said for you to take me to bed and make love to me!" he snarled low in his throat, the sound running straight down to his own growing arousal and making him tremble as he stood up and snatched Draco's hand and leaned up towards him.

"Come on."

He dragged the blonde backwards into their bedroom and kicked the door shut behind them. Feeling a new rush of adrenaline surge through him, he forced the blonde man down onto the edge of the bed and straightened up between his long, lean legs. He kept his eyes locked on Draco's and started to work the buttons of his shirt open and let it slip down around his arms and fell to the floor. Draco watched hungry and swallowing thickly as he looked up at Harry's slightly more defined body. Exercise had been something to distract Harry from having nothing to do all day whilst he was at Severus' house. Ever since those six months had ended, he still kept up the routine, insisting that it kept his worries at ease and would let him think a little clearer. Draco didn't mind, it meant he had something firm to lean down on when he pounded into Harry's tight tanned body all night long. He had spent many a long night thrusting into Harry as he forced the younger man down over the length of their breakfast table, slipping in and out with his tight heat with ease. His cock twitched at the visage before him and he wanted to reach out and touch his lover. He looked so handsome –almost Adonis-like –as he stood in the glow of the flickering candles. He watched as the dark, damp trousers were unfastened the pushed down to reveal caramel thighs and firm muscles that made Draco's stomach knot.

Harry took a step forward and Draco reached out to smooth his hands over the firm thighs, tracing the muscles with his palms. He shifted to the edge of the bed and pressed warm kisses down along the firm muscles. "Let me taste you, Harry," he growled low in his throat as he grazed his teeth along the snail trail running down between his lover's legs.

"Taste me then," came the hushed reply as fingers threaded through his blonde hair. He tilted his head back and groaned out loud as he felt the velvety wet warmth of Draco's mouth enveloping his erection. A shiver ran through him as he thrust his hips lightly.

Draco dipped his head up and down between Harry's legs over and over, taking his lover in as deep as he could without gagging too much. He squeezed Harry's buttocks as he sucked on his head and made the younger man moan and arch into his touch. As much as he didn't mind letting Harry lead on rare occasions, he still needed to have a little control to savour. He felt himself growing harder at the mere thought of what Harry had yet to do to him.

He felt shivers running through him as he watched Harry lower himself down onto his knees and spread his pale thighs open even wider. He let out a shuddering sound when he felt the hot wetness of Harry's tongue sliding over his nether regions and slipping between his buttocks. He tried to relax his muscles and keep his breathing in time to the gentle licks that danced over his cock, scrotum and then his puckered entrance. He could feel himself started to sweat already and grimaced at himself. He had done this to Harry countless times, had the younger man ever been this tense?

Harry smirked as he peppered gentle kisses up Draco's body, smoothing his free hand up and down the blonde man's pale muscles, "It's alright, my love, just relax and you'll enjoy it."

"Easy for you to say," Draco grumbled as he forced his fists to unfurl at his sides, focusing instead of the way the candlelight danced in Harry's eyes as he watched him before he trailed his wet tongue down Draco's stomach, over the length of his cock and then back down between his buttocks. Another smirk from Harry as he teased Draco's entrance with his tongue, slipping it in and out slowly and making the blonde man squirm. He let out soft panting breaths as Harry slicked a finger and slowly pressed it inside the ring of hot, tight muscle. "Ahhh …" he whimpered out as he felt the digit slowly ease in and out of him at an agonizingly slow pace.

Harry took Draco in his mouth again to try and ease some of the tension from his pale body. He needed to make tonight as special for the blonde man beneath him as he could. He needed to remember not to rush anything, despite the burning ache growing inside him to just dominate the blonde over and over again until he was a quivering mess beneath him. As soon as he felt that Draco had relaxed enough he leaned up and increased the rhythm of which his finger slipped in and out of the blonde man's tight body. He bent down and twisted his fingers at an awkward angle as he slicked his middle finger and then pressed that into Draco's entrance too, stopping only when the muscles tightened dramatically around his digits. "Relax," he breathed out gently as he sucked on Draco's balls.

He don't know how long he was crouched down on his knees and working Draco wider and wider, but as soon as his lover was ready and waiting for his throbbing member, he stood up and straightened the sore muscles in his knees before slicking his own cock up and positioning himself up between Draco's quivering thighs. "H-Harry … Please … Need more," Draco panted, his chest rising up and down rapidly.

"I'm going to slide inside you, alright?" Harry panted as he slowly stroked his own cock with firm fingers and continuing to coax Draco's entrance to relax a little looked up as Draco bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes averted and shining with unshed tears. He felt his heart convulse, "Am I –hurting you?" he asked softly, stopping his administrations to run a soothing hand up the blonde's stomach. He watched as the older man trembled beneath him and brought a quaking hand to cover the hushed sobs creaking out of his mouth. "Draco?" he breathed, not wanting to draw attention to the pain in his heart and no doubt the pain Draco was in at that moment. "Come on, Draco, what's wrong? Let me help you."

"I'm sorry –I'm just –happy," the blonde managed to choke as he threw an arm to hide his weeping eyes.

Harry froze as he leaned over his lover, "Happy?" he repeated, as though not believing the emotion that had so eluded him for the majority of his life, "What do you mean happy?"

Draco nodded as he shifted further off the bed, "Please don't stop. I need to feel you inside me. Make this feeling last, I don't want to ever let it go!"

Harry it down on his lip as he shifted himself between Draco's thighs and positioned his head against the blonde's stretched entrance, "Are you sure?" he asked one final time. As Draco's firm not, he slowly breached his lover's body, gasping as the ring of muscle tightened around him and waited for the blonde man to adjust. Soon Draco was shifting around him and thrusting ever so slightly, silently pleading for Harry to fill him up more and more until he could no longer stand it. Harry complied as slowly as he could without exploding inside his lover and before he knew it he was sheathed up to the hilt in Draco's delicious, sweating body.

Draco threw his head back and let out a strangled cry as Harry started to slowly move inside him, drawing up a rhythm that made him sweat out and clutch the bed sheets into a tangled mess until his knuckles were gleaming white. He panted erratically as he tried to cam his frantic heart but the adrenaline was rushing through him at such an alarming rate that he couldn't keep his moans from escaping and filling the air between them. Harry's grunts as he thrust inside him, deep and hot and tight, made his own erection ache as it bobbed on his stomach. He raised his legs until his toes were curled over the edge of the mattress and raised his hips in time to Harry's thrusting, and he cried out over and over until everything became lost in the translation of the heavy lust that gripped him. "Harry!" he gasped out through his strangled cries, as he pulled himself up to grip at Harry's sweating shoulders as he gripped Draco's legs and pounded into him.

Dropping the pale legs unceremoniously, Harry leaned right over Draco so that his pale legs were pushed up against his chest. They were nose-to-nose as Harry dipped his head to capture his mouth in a hot, passionate kiss with chapped lips nipping and sucking at one another before his teeth drew Draco's bottom lip out and suckled once again. Their bodies were hot and salty with sweat, plastered together as Harry –after a few more deep thrusts –came hot and heavy inside his husband, his face contorted into that of both pleasure and pain as he collapsed on top of Draco at a somewhat awkward angle, just in time for the older man's cum to spurt out and hit his chin.

"Oh, Draco!" Harry panted out harshly into the blonde's ear as he buried his nose into the mattress, "I've missed making love to you."

Draco squirmed a little underneath him, feeling both crushed and a little gross as the cum dribbled out of his arsehole and down onto the bed and around his buttocks. He felt so sticky and grimy but as soon as Harry rolled off of him and he straightened his legs down he winced at the fierce burn spreading up from his rectum. "Merlin, Harry! You've ripped me in two!" he wailed as he rolled onto his front and tried to clench his cheeks together.

"Hold still," Harry murmured drowsily as he placed a placating hand on Draco's tense butt cheek. He eased himself off of the bed and padded clumsily over to the small cupboard across the room. He grabbed a small pot with a salve inside and came back over to kneel beside Draco's legs. "You're going to need to unclench," he advised softly as he stroked Draco's hot skin with one hand and with his free one, he dabbed it into the salve.

Draco did his best to unclench his muscles and then hissed in pain as Harry's cold, slick finger swathed his insides with the cooling salve that would also heal any abrasions caused during the rough passionate sex.

"Better?" Harry's soft soothing voice asked. Wincing slightly, Draco nodded in response. "Good," with a final lingering kiss on Draco's buttocks, he retreated back to place the salve back in the cabinet before reaching for his wand and removing the filthy, sweaty sheet on the bed. He couldn't help but chuckle as Draco was rolled over onto one side because of it. He didn't bother putting fresh sheets on the bed. He merely went around tucking the smooth blankets in underneath and then grabbed a thick, duck feather stuffed duvet from inside the wardrobe. Once down he collapsed into the feathery softness beside his husband and peered up at him. "Feeling any better?"

Draco nodded with a lazy smile playing on his lips as his head lulled against the headboard, "I always seem to forget how amazing it feels to have you inside me."

Harry turned onto his side and propped his head up with his arm, "Why _did_ you decide to be on the bottom tonight? Usually you just take charge."

Draco shrugged a stiff shoulder, "Those letters, I think. I read them and realised just how one-sided our relationship had been before that summer and I just –felt –like I needed to let you take the lead once in a while. More often than before at the very least."

"My abysmal letters make you worked up enough to want to bottom with me?" Harry asked disbelievingly, his face set into a dead-pan expression.

Draco glared down at him and then softened his gaze, "Don't be idiotic, Harry, it doesn't become you. And no, what I meant was that those letters reminded me that I needed to give once in a while and you needed to take. I love you more than I could ever love anyone or anything. Now please," he reached over and ran his fingertips down Harry's face, "Stop punishing yourself."

Harry shook his head and let out a watery sigh as he buried his face into the goose-down, "How can you ask me to do such a thing after everything I have done to you?"

Draco stretched himself out on the bed beside his lover and played with the damp strands of hair curling up from his temples, "By remembering all of the things that you have done _for_ me." Harry tried to shake his head but Draco wouldn't let him. Instead he leaned over and pressed tender kisses over Harry's neck and face, "If you think that I'm going to let you walk out of my life at this point then I am afraid I will just have to follow you wherever you go until you come back to me again."

Harry peeked up through the duvet, "It's really that easy for you? To forgive what I did?"

Draco stared down at him with steady grey eyes, "Harry, it isn't up to me to judge you for what you did or why you did it. You cannot go back and stop yourself from committing said actions. All that you need to know is that ten years later I am here with you now, letting you make love to me, and loving you as much as I can, and telling you that it is okay to let go of the guilt. You don't need it anymore. I'm here and I'm not leaving you. I am nearly in my fifties, Harry, do not make me beg for you to keep loving me."

"Surely that just means that you're madder than I am?" the brunette man asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Perhaps," he conceded with a graceful smile, "But at the very least that means that the both of us can live out the rest of our lives together, being mad as one another?"

Harry let a small smile grace his lips as he reached out and traced a line down the blonde man's features. When had he stopped noticing the slight crow's feet around his eyes, or the way his slender neck had gotten a little thinner, the shadow of his beard already starting to grow back out again? He still looked handsome but he also looked a great deal more distinguished than he had when they were younger, or even when they'd gone to spend the summer at Severus'. He had no doubt filled a little around the neck and cheeks but his muscles were a little leaner than they had been a few years ago. It was to be expected as he was now forty-three years old. He let out a soft sigh and relaxed as Draco's fingertips caressed his scalp. "That feels nice," he murmured as he closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

Draco smiled and pressed a tender kiss to Harry's temples, "Now come on. Get up and get dressed and then we can relax in bed, alright? I know we already are relaxing before you get sarcastic with me, Mister Potter," he quipped with a slick to the brunette's ear, "But I mean relax enough so that we are able to drift off to sleep peacefully without having to get up and change and all that tedious rubbish."

"We could always sleep naked if you prefer," Harry replied slyly as he turned over onto his back and smoothed his hands down his front and watched as Draco's molten grey eyes followed their trail.

Draco smirked down at him, "We haven't done that in years, Harry. Do you suddenly feel the urge to rub up against me all night long?" he purred silkily as he leaned over Harry and pressed their mouths together. "I do love you, you know?" he murmured gently.

"What do you get scared of, Harry?" the blonde man breathed gently as he splayed his hand over the naked, tan chest beneath him. A small part of him at the back of his mind told him that he didn't want to know and that he should be afraid of the answer, but he berated himself and told him that he was nearly fifty for goodness sake, if he kept running from things all his life he wouldn't get anywhere.

"I'm scared that one day I'm going to wake up and not have you beside me –and –and that it'll be all my fault," he blinked away at the tears brimming on his lashes before inhaling deeply, "And it's not even that the same thing would have happened. What if –what if I drive you away again? Without physical consequences? What if I am so unbearably horrid that regardless of our age, you decide that you can no longer stand to be around me?"

With a breathy laugh and pressing their foreheads together, "I don't care about any of that Harry. I am going to spend every last breath in my body loving you as much as possible. Those letters today, they reminded me of what we had and how long and hard it took to get us back to somewhere a lot better. I love you, there is nothing more to it, do you understand me?"

Harry nodded and sat up along the mattress and stole a chaste kiss, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to spoil tonight," he wiped hastily as his eyes, "Let me go and light the fire. I don't want either of us getting a chill in the middle of the night." As he stood up and went to stoke the fire and tug a nightshirt on over his head, he tried to calm his racing mind. He didn't want to feel the guilt forever but how could he let it go? He couldn't just do it simply because that's what Draco wanted. As soon as the fire started to flicker in the grate he wiped at his eyes, drew in a few deep breaths and straightened up, his back muscles protesting a little. He swallowed thickly and then turned back around to trail back to the bed, when he stopped.

"W-what are you doing?" he asked as he gazed down with wide eyes at Draco kneeling down on the hardwood floors, basking in the glow of the candlelight and resting there in all his naked glory that had matured over the last two decades. He was breath-taking, and it reminded Harry of the night that he had asked Draco a very important question.

Draco smiled gently up at him, "After father's will was read out and his belongings divided between the benefactors, it turns out that I got this ring. It is a family heirloom passed from generation to generation. This is my way of promising you that you are not alone in any of this anymore. I will be here by your side no matter what happens. I have seen you at your worst and, even though it took some time, I am still here ten years on and I still love you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, Harry James Potter, and by accepting this ring, you are declaring that you will love me for the rest of your life and will stay by my side for as long as we both shall live. You are my husband and with this ring, I am declaring that you are officially part of my family. Forever more."

He didn't realise that the tears were running down his cheeks until they dripped off his chin and soaked through the collar of his nightshirt. He sniffed loudly and wiped his cheeks roughly. "Do …" he hiccoughed, "Do you really mean that? Are you sure?" his breath was coming out in rapid huffs, "I mean you can still walk out. I know it's been ten years but you're still young –in spirit –you don't really need me dogging you the res –"

"Harry!" Draco barked though his mouth was smiling, "I'm asking you because I am sure. I just need to know whether or not you are sure," he paused for a moment before raising both eyebrows, "Well are you?"

Harry dropped down to his knees and grasped Draco's face between his hands and pressed their mouths together in passionate, salty damp kisses before he broke away and gave a watery laugh, "Merlin, I've gotten you all wet." He wiped at Draco's cheeks with his sleeve and only stopped when the blonde man grasped his wrist and pulled it away.

"Do you accept this ring, Harry?" he breathed as he hugged the brunette man on top of him around the waist.

"Yes!" he smacked a hand over his mouth and gave another shaky laugh, "I mean, yes of course I will." He held out his hand and let Draco slip the signet ring onto his left ring finger, "Are you sure you want to give me this ring, Draco?" he breathed as he traced the snake and large 'M' engraved into the antique silver.

The blonde man nodded from his position beneath Harry, "More than I was that night in the function room over twenty years ago and I thought to myself 'that young apprentice has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen –I wonder if he has a beautiful voice to match'."

Harry had the good grace to blush as he stroked the ring and then stood up, offering Draco his hand to be led back to the bed, "So do you think you can survive another ten years with me Draco?" he breathed. Both men knew it was more than just an innocent question and even though Harry knew what Draco's answer would be, he needed to hear it said out loud. He needed it to be said out loud so that the whole universe would know that it was true.

"Of course Harry. I plan on spending as many years with you as possible. Till death do us part, remember?" he grinned down as he landed on top of the brunette, the mattress springs groaning underneath their combined weight.

Harry nodded and felt his heart skip in his chest, "Till death do us part, my love."

**THE END.**

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><p><strong>AN: Well there you go everybody. I reckon that after all they have been through and suffered, they deserved a good old bit of love as a send-off. Please R&R and thank FanofBellaandEdward for inspiring me at unholy hours of the morning.**

**Belle x**


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